


We'll be Golden

by 1FrozenRutabaga



Series: Our Little Family [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bonnie's a nervous sasshole, Bullying, Chica's mom material, Family, Family Bonding, Foxy sucks at emotions, Freddy just wants to fix things, Gen, Goldie's a prankster, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mike needs a hug, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, everyone needs to chill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-04-24 20:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1FrozenRutabaga/pseuds/1FrozenRutabaga
Summary: One week after the confrontation, Mike and the animatronics are on a friendly level, but things are about as awkward and tense as one would expect. They need a real icebreaker to shatter the walls between them, and Goldie and Scotty's appearances may be just what they need. With Goldie being (reluctantly) accepted into the group, Chris's hatred towards the animatronics unshakable, the unavoidable truth with Scotty and the past guards, and Mike's past, there's a lot of work to do.But they'll be okay. They'll be golden.





	1. The Week After

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are, the sequel to Our Little Family! I know it's coming out so shortly afterwards (and I'm probably rushing it) but I'm so excited to get this out. This is going to be shorter than Part 1 (I say/probably lie to myself and you), but it'll be much more interesting now that we're past the initial hurtle of getting things set up.
> 
> Also if you're new here, please read Part 1! I know it's long, but things won't make a lot of sense if you skip it. With that said, please enjoy!

_He was in the pizzeria. At least, he thought he was. There were the tiles on the floor and a party table with hats and plates, but it was like he was in a black box. There were no exits or doors, just a…welcoming setup. It was like someone had put together a welcoming party for him._

_Mike looked over when he felt a presence at his side. Scotty was next to him, his form speckled. He waved. “Hello, hello!”_

_The teen’s face lit up. “Scotty!” He hadn’t seen the former guard all week, but he had heard a whisper here and there._

_Scotty looked him over, his grin bright. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “You and your soul have been looking a lot better. It’s healing really fast.”_

_Mike blew a stray strand out of his face. “I feel a lot better,” he said. He hadn’t felt so healthy in years. It was so weird but it felt incredibly good._

_“L-looks like it. It’s great to see that you’re healthy.” Scotty looked over. “Right, Goldie?”_

_The teen stiffened. He looked over to see the suit sitting at the end of the table. The white pupils were big and practically beaming with excitement, a grin on his face. He waved. “Hi, tater tot!” the golden bear greeted cheerfully. “Nice to see you!”_

_Mike stared._

_The bear wasn’t deterred by the look. “Come here, sit! I only get to make third impressions once.”_

_Third impressions? Mike hesitated, then slipped into the chair. It was soft and cushioned._

_“Wish I could offer you a drink or something.” The dots slipped to Scotty. “That’s what you do when you invite someone over, right?”_

_“To a home, not to the inside of a soul,” the spirit chuckled, amused. He sat in the middle like a peacekeeper._

_“Hey, you can’t say I didn’t try. The party table was the best I could do.” He looked at Mike. “Now this is a pretty delicate connection, so we have to be careful not to break it.”_

_“I don’t even know how I’m in here,” Mike said meekly. He was still nervous around the suit._

_“Then it’s just the outside world we have to worry about,” Goldie chirped. “But anyways, it’s good to see you, Mike.”_

_Scotty seemed to trust the bear, and he hadn’t actually hurt Mike yet… “Scotty said your name’s Goldie?” he asked._

_A chip in the ice. That was a start. “Yep! The one and only!” Goldie sang._

_“He’s a little in love with himself,” Scotty whispered to Mike. “He’s got a little bit of an ego.”_

_Goldie recoiled mockingly, scandalized. “Ugh! I don’t have an ego, I just have a very slightly higher than normal self-esteem, and that’s a very good thing to have!”_

_Scotty rolled his eyes playfully. He shot a quick glance to Mike. “You won’t need to be scared of him. He’s harmless.”_

_“Hey, I am not harmless!” Goldie exclaimed, scowling. “I could totally kick your ass right now. Do you have any idea what kind of damage I can cause? A lot!”_

_Scotty laughed. Then he cleared his throat. “Right, uh… We were here for something.”_

_Goldie blinked. “Oh yeah.” He looked at Mike. “Can you make sure the other animatronics don’t tear me apart and kill me?”_

_Mike’s eyes widened owlishly. “What?”_

_“T-that’s a little too blunt, Goldie,” Scotty chided lightly. He smiled at Mike. “See, we thought it would be best if Goldie was a part of the group since he’s just like them, but the problem is what they associate him with.”_

_The teen looked at Goldie, frowning. “You’re not Patterson,” he said, though it was more of a question._

_Goldie grimaced. “No, I’m not. I’m my own person, tater tot, but unfortunately I was alive whenever that happened.” He paused, wringing his hands. “But I don’t blame you for being scared of me. I totally get it.”_

_Guilt poked at Mike’s heart. Goldie seemed so nice, though a little sporadic, but his first appearance to Mike had been for a terrifying reason. It didn’t seem fair for Goldie to take the blame of the man who wore him. It wasn't fair at all._

_But speaking of that… “How are you alive if you don’t have an endoskeleton?” Mike asked._

_Goldie puffed up his chest a little. “I’ve got a soul just like you and the animatronics!”_

_“He’s making himself seem bigger to impress you but he’s really just sitting against the wall right now,” Scotty said to Mike._

_The butterscotch bear pouted and crossed his arms. “It’s a very uncomfortable wall.” His expression then sobered. “But yeah, I’ve got a soul. I don’t need an endoskeleton or chip to attach to, I’ve got my suit.”_

_“But he can’t move,” the spirit said._

_Mike raised a skeptical brow. “But…”_

_“I can move here, just not in reality,” Goldie clarified. “And that brings me to another question: Can you come find me?”_

_The teen tilted his head. “I guess. Where are you?”_

_Goldie let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, tater tot. You see, I’m–.”_

A loud clang snaked through the walls, followed by Chris yelling, “Fuck!”

Mike rubbed his face, lazily looking around. He was in Chris’s spare bedroom. He faintly remembered the janitor driving him here after another shift, Chris grumbling the usual about the animatronics and the early hour. Mike knew he was more upset about the animatronics and could care less about the time, though.

Right, the animatronics.

Mike wasn’t expecting things to be right as rain after Saturday. A month of spending their time hunting Mike down like wounded prey wasn’t enough to have everyone fully on board with the massive adjustments. The boldness on Saturday had gone up into smoke, leaving everyone nervous and awkward around each other. Chris just barely allowed Mike to do his shift, his distrust towards the animatronics incredible now that he knew they weren’t restricted to programming.

But they really were trying. They would constantly check up on him regardless of where he was and ask if he needed anything. Even when he was at Logan or Chris’s place they would check in. It was weird, but comforting. He still had to get used to talking in his head and not aloud, because he had really freaked Chris out one afternoon when his eyes blackened up and he started talking to the air. Chica – Mike learned she had barred the others from the kitchen – would bring him treats like cookies or cupcakes, Freddy would grab a ball from the prize counter and throw it with him, Bonnie would invite Mike to play the weird board game with just the letter pieces, and Foxy…

Well, Foxy was still a work in progress.

Out of all of the animatronics, Foxy was the hardest to talk to. They were on friendly terms, Foxy was really nice, but it was still hard on both ends for them to speak to each other without it dissolving into an awkward mess. Foxy would drop by for a short word or two and then go back to the Cove for night. Mike rarely saw him. Even though Freddy had reassured Mike that Foxy didn’t come out of the Cove much in the first place, it still stung a little. Mike knew Foxy was sorry, he really did, and honestly he didn’t hold a grudge against the fox, but an apology didn’t seem to be enough to repair much; let alone ’87.

Mike wished it did.

Chris was in the kitchen. Ever since Mike had come around, it seemed like Chris was trying to cook more. Maybe it was some kind of responsibility he was holding to himself or the fact that Mike’s weight was usually discussed, but Mike couldn’t lie to himself that the food was worth it. It wasn’t _as_ good as Petunia’s cooking, but it was up there.

“What are you making?” Mike asked, yawning.

“Bacon and eggs,” Chris responded. “Go sit.”

The teen flopped onto the couch. “What was that sound earlier?”

“Me dropping the damn pan,” Chris growled. “I left it over the burner for too long and yanked it back too quick.”

Mike looked over. “Is the food okay?”

“‘Is the food okay?’” Chris mocked in a warped voice. “Yes, Mike, the food’s fine.”

The younger snickered quietly from his spot.

Chris hadn’t really changed from the ordeal. Sure, the phone in Logan’s office would ring at some point in the night from Chris calling to check in and Mike was forced to carry the new bat the man had bought in on shift, but he was pretty much the same. He just looked a little angrier than normal most of the time; because he was.

Breakfast was set in front of him a few minutes later. Chris was more focused on his coffee, which Mike knew he already had too much of already, and Mike was more focused on his orange juice.

“Eat your food. You need the protein,” Chris ordered lightly from his spot.

“I’m getting it,” the teen told him. “You guys always tell me I eat too fast and then grumble when I don’t eat fast enough.”

Chris raised a brow. “We grumble, huh? You mean we worry that you’re going to shirk on your meal because you have issues eating?” he questioned flatly.

Mike scowled lightly. “Shut up.”

“I feel like you’re becoming more of a little brat now that your soul’s healed.”

“I think that’s because I’m usually around you.”

“Good, I’m passing on my legacy. Speaking of which, how is the weird thing?”

Mike palmed his chest. “Better,” he said. “I feel better than yesterday. I think it’s starting to settle down.”

“That’s good. No more cups getting thrown at my head,” Chris joked, though he was serious. He had noticed a big change in Mike throughout the week, how the kid’s skin had gained a little more color and he seemed more outgoing. Then again that could also be because he was spending time with…them. He scowled. Chris hated to admit it, but the animatronics really did seem to be making Mike happy.

Mike didn’t comment on the expression. He knew who it was for.

They finished eating and cleaned up. Once the dishes were in the sink – because Chris wasn’t _that_ motivated yet – they sat in their respective places. Chris had grabbed the newspaper and sat in the armchair. Mike was left the couch.

“You look like an old man,” Mike said.

“You look like a brat,” Chris responded.

The sky-blues rolled. They were definitely brighter now that the Tear was fixed. Mike then frowned. “Hey, Chris?”

Chris sighed. “This sounds like a question I’m not going to like.”

At least Mike wouldn’t have to sugarcoat it. “Scotty came to me when I was sleeping again with Goldie.”

The man looked at him with slightly bugged eyes. “Wait, what? Scotty’s back? And with who?”

Right, Mike had mentioned the name once and that had been weeks ago. “Goldie. The suit that, uh, you-know-who wore to…” He idly drew circles into the couch with his finger. “You know.”

Chris looked conflicted for a moment. Then, “Right. Right, I forgot about that name.” He raised an uncertain brow. “So the suit has a name? Don’t tell me it’s actually alive.”

“Um…”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be alive?”

“Goldie’s got his own personality and soul like the animatronics,” Mike said. It was like ripping off a band-aid.

“Great. Another animatronics to deal with.” Chris sighed. “Where is he?”

“Goldie’s nice,” Mike said, defending the bear. He then frowned. “I don’t know. He was going to tell me, but then you dropped the pan and the connection broke.”

“So I interrupted your conversation.” Chris let out a small snort. “I’m a prick when I don’t even try.”

“Chris, he wants me to help him,” Mike snipped. “He has no endoskeleton and he can’t move properly. He asked me to fix him and I said yes.”

Chris knew Mike could fix things. Apparently the teen had some experience with tinkering around on his own. He huffed. “Can we even trust him?”

Mike noted the ‘we’. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he said. “Plus Scotty’s friends with him.”

“So Scotty’s friends with this thing?” Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Great, another addition. Just what the world needs.”

“Goldie didn’t do anything.”

“Mike, it’s the point that it’s another robot, and I don’t like robots if you couldn’t tell already.”

But Chris didn’t ban him from looking for Goldie, and Mike would take that as a win.

\- - - - -

"Are you kidding me?!"

“It broke just as you were telling him where you were, b-but that's okay! We'll get it through next time."

“Fucking hell!”

"Or not."


	2. Awkward Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike goes in for his Friday shift. Thankfully all he has to worry about are cupcakes and awkward conversations regarding Bonnie's reluctance to kill him at one point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready to get crazy for a much smoother flowing story and awkward family bonding? Seriously everything's going to get smoother now that we're over the first part because I can actually write everyone.
> 
> Also sorry for the delay. I spent a little more time with my dad yesterday for Father's Day and I didn't get much time over the weekend in general to write. Thank you for your patience! <3

“Mike.”

Mike stopped, turned. “What?”

Chris was looking at him pointedly. “The bat.”

The teen sighed. He went and opened the back door of the truck to find his bat behind his seat. The bat was a steely grey with a dark blue and black handle, brand new and unused. Chris had gotten a new one for himself as well, the other having a green and black handle. The old one still sat in in the back, however. The new bat was nice, but Mike didn’t like why Chris had gotten it.

“I don’t need it,” Mike mumbled even as he pulled it out. “They’re not going to hurt me, Chris.”

“I’m still not comfortable with you being completely defenseless,” Chris said. “Besides, you need something in case someone breaks in.”

Usually break-ins weren’t a problem. Being a gravesite of five kids and the source of endless rumors usually kept people away, but there was an occasion where some desperate idiot would sneak in. The animatronics generally…took care…of the problem, but with how awkward and skittish they were being even Chris didn’t think they would be vigilant enough.

That and there was no telling what they would actually do if someone broke in. They hadn’t really touched on the killing issue.

“I’ll call in a bit to check in,” the janitor said. “You better be at that phone.”

“I will.” Mike always was.

Chris’s scowl melted into a stiff frown. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” Mike said. “Bye, Chris.”

When Mike opened the door, Bonnie poked his head around the corner. It wasn’t just so that they would prevent Chris throwing a fit, but to keep any prying eyes from them. The shudders were always down at night, but it was just a precaution.

Mike gave him small smile. “Hi, Bonnie.”

Bonnie returned it almost identically. “Hey, Mikey.” Mortification passed over his face. “I-I mean Mike. Hey, Mike.”

This was so awkward that Mike wanted the tiles to split open and let him sink into the ground. The animatronics constantly slipped and said his old nickname, which still sent electricity down his spine, but he didn’t mind it. Freddy was the only one who said his full name.

The rosy eyes went to the bat. “Chris really isn’t going to make you stop bringing that, huh?”

Mike huffed. “Yeah.” He always put it on one of the tables.

"You won't need it for a board game." Bonnie then stiffened. "B-but you can keep it if you want."

“I don’t need it,” Mike said disarmingly. He frowned at the rabbit. “I really do trust you guys.”

Bonnie felt his wires twist. That was an incredibly loaded statement, one Bonnie wanted to fully accept more than anything, but with the weeks before… “Okay.” A pause, absent arm rubbing. “Do you want to play Word Puzzle or something else tonight?”

Word Puzzle was their knockoff of a game Mike couldn’t really remember the name of. The one where words were scrambled or something. “I don’t know.” Mike glanced at the windows. “But we should get away from the windows.”

They moved to the main room. Foxy was presumably in the Cove, Chica was definitely in the kitchen already now that they weren’t playing dead until midnight, and Freddy was…somewhere. Probably either in the security office or the backroom. He was usually there or on the stage.

“I heard a certain someone~!” Chica’s singing voice was muffled through the kitchen door. She opened it a moment later, smiling brightly and a cupcake in her hand. “Hi, Mikey!”

Mike smiled timidly. “Hi, Chica.”

Out of everyone, Chica was probably the most comfortable he was with already. She was very easy-going and taking the adjustments like a duck taking to water. Sure, Freddy and Bonnie were doing the same, but there was always an underlying tension to their interactions. Freddy would glance at Mike’s neck from time to time with a gloomy twinkle in his eyes and Bonnie was really twitchy. Chica was always bubbly and bright, no guilty looks – at least that Mike could see – or nervous twitching at all.

She walked over and handed Mike to treat. It was chocolate with bright pink frosting and white sprinkles. “Here you go, sweetie. I just made a batch of cupcakes, so it’s hot and fresh.”

Chica’s baking was really good. Mike honestly thought her secret was magic sometimes. “Thank you,” he said, his cheeks brightening.

“Can I have one?” Bonnie asked. His eyes became comically big and sad.

Chica’s right eye went black and a line shot from her neck back into the kitchen. It came back a second later with a vanilla cupcake with purple icing. “Vanilla, just for you.”

The rabbit’s ears wiggled with giddiness. “Sweet!” He took it from her grip.

Chica turned her head. “Freddy, do you want a cupcake?” she hollered.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Freddy called back from the one hallway.

“Foxy, what about you?”

A moment of quiet. Then, “Sure.”

Her line slipped back into the kitchen, coming out split into two part. One cupcake was chocolate with blue frosting and blueberries on top and the other was strawberry with red icing and a cut strawberry on top. Foxy’s was delivered first, then Freddy’s.

“Strawberry?” Foxy asked after a moment.

“And blueberry?” Freddy added.

“Yes. It’s healthier anyway,” Chica said. She hadn't been there when Freddy had discovered his love for blueberries, but she had been there to see a line of Foxy's power creeping into the kitchen after giving into his temptation to see what the fuss over food was about. Chica had been the one to give one to him, and it had been a staple favorite ever since.

Bonnie shrugged and started to unwrap his. “That doesn’t really matter to us, but I won’t complain."

“Go sit down before you get crumbs over the floor,” she grumbled. Really, she just didn't want to attract any possible rodents or make Chris mad. She looked back at Mike and smiled sweetly. “Just knock and come in if you’re hungry, sweetie.”

Petunia’s leftovers were in his bag, but Mike had been getting a hankering for Chica’s deserts. “Okay.”

She then saw the bat. “Ugh, he made you bring it again?” Chica looked at it with distaste. “It’s not like you need it.”

Bonnie glanced at his cupcake. “Well…”

“Don’t even think about it,” she deadpanned. “No way are you using my baking as baseballs.”

“I wasn’t!” Bonnie retorted, an obvious lie. “I was just thinking we could get a ball from the prize counter and have some fun.”

Chica huffed. “Just don’t get it near me.”

“She’s been traumatized with a baseball bat!” Foxy yelled from the Cove. “It’s her worst nightmare!”

“And my frying pan should be yours!” she shouted back, gritting her teeth. It was a signature weapon when it game to hitting one of the others if they overstayed their welcome in the doorway. That and the ladle and spatula.

“No throwing anything that isn’t a ball across the pizzeria,” Freddy drawled from the hallway.

Chica snorted. She then looked back at Mike. “Just knock whenever, Mikey,” she said cheerfully, retreating back into her space.

“It’s like her nest,” Bonnie said to Mike after she was gone. “She gets ticked whenever the staff moves stuff around.”

Mike had learned Chica had been cooking most of the sweets in the display case for years. Of course she would be upset that her area would be disrupted.

When they sat at a table to eat, Mike couldn’t help but keep an eye on Bonnie. It was weird seeing the animatronics eat. Their lines would emerge, usually from their necks, and consume whatever was in front of them. Mike had gaped whenever he had caught a glimpse of Freddy eating a cookie a day after the confrontation, the animatronic caught between amusement and guilt for possibly traumatizing him, but now he was barely fazed by it anymore.

“Mike, watch this.” The rabbit had balanced the cupcake on his nose. He quickly tipped his head back and caught the cupcake in his mouth. A small wave of black instantly went to consume it and whatever had slipped of it. “Ta-da!”

Now Mike just thought it was really cool.

With the Tear healed, Mike felt a significant difference whenever he unsheathed his powers. There was no pain, no burning sensation or tears, but instead his temperature shifting a little lighter and his body tingling with power. It was fantastic, though still a little dizzying.

Mike set down the cupcake, his lips straightening tightly as he drew his soul to his hands. Two lines slide through his palms and extended towards the cupcake, lifting it slightly off the table. It tumbled under the grips of his makeshift hands, it was like balancing a full plate of food, as Mike attempted to consume it just like Bonnie had, but it just wouldn’t work. He gritted his teeth in frustration for a moment longer before sighing. At least he could do what Bonnie did with the balancing trick, right?

Unfortunately, Mike was reminded too late that he still wasn’t the best at his powers when he accidentally shoved the cupcake into his face. Icing caked between his eyes and tipped some of his hanging hair. What was left of the cupcake fell onto the table on its side.

Mike let out a disgruntled mumble. Of course. Mike grabbed a set napkin and scrubbed it off his face as best he could.

Bonnie was trying his hardest not to laugh, his smile crooked and tight as he tried to keep himself from smiling. “T-that’ll be a later trick,” he wheezed out carefully. It was mean to laugh, he knew it was, but Mike’s _face_ …!

Speaking of which… “How come you guys aren’t teaching me anything yet?” Mike couldn’t help but ask once he got the mess off his face. He felt a little relieved when he saw that there was still some on the cupcake.

Bonnie blinked, amusement fading. “Oh. Uh, we wanted to wait until you were healed a little better. Speaking of which, I was actually going to ask to see your soul for a minute to check.”

The rest of the cupcake could wait.

Apparently Bonnie was the best at coaxing souls, and the best at healing them, so it was mostly his duty to oversee the Tear. He hadn’t done it to Mike all week, the teen unwillingly traumatized from the first two times it had been brought out, but they had practiced with moving it. Mike would sit for a few minutes while Bonnie moved it back and forth within his chest with steady hand movements to assure him that it wouldn’t hurt.

Still, as Mike watched his soul faze out of his chest with wary eyes and a slightly higher heartrate, it was pretty scary.

Bonnie’s ears perked. He looked triumphant. “No leaks, no Tearing, no greying areas. It looks great!”

Mike felt his heart stutter at the mention of the scar. “Is that good?” He knew it was, but he was still unsure.

“That’s very good,” Bonnie said, gaping. It was doing a lot better than he thought. “You’re healing faster than I expected. The scar should fade within time.”

Mike remembered what Freddy said about permanent damage. “So, it’s not going to completely heal?” he asked slowly.

Bonnie noted the gloom in the boy’s voice. “Not entirely,” he said, trying to be soothing. “It’s a very old and serious wound. They just sort of…stay like scars do. We all have a few.”

“From what?” Mike couldn’t help but ask.

Bonnie barely hesitated. “Unfortunate learning experiences,” he said.

Mike wondered if he and the others had been rehearsing that. He didn’t press. “So what does the scar do? Am I going to be…?” Useless? Always out of control?

“I should have thought better with my words earlier.” Mike and Bonnie both jumped at Freddy’s voice. They looked over to see the bear standing in the hallway entrance. “I meant that it’ll just be scarred. It’s nothing serious.”

“You may have a few kinks here and there, but those will work out,” Bonnie added reassuringly. “It’ll barely bother you after a while.”

Work out. Mike really hoped they would. Humans and robots were still very different and Mike was the only human – from what they knew – with this kind of power, so how different would things be?

“Everything looks good,” Bonnie announced again. “I’ll look at it again in a few days and then see if it’s healed enough for you to start training it.”

Bonnie eased the sphere back to its place. Mike shivered as his soul slipped back into his chest, the feeling still really bizarre, but at least he didn’t get whiplash. He let out a small sigh when it settled, bringing a hand to his chest to gently rub at it. Bonnie stood up.

Once the feeling passed, Mike asked, “Can we play Word Puzzle?” Maybe he could surprise Bonnie and win.

A mischievous gleam twinkled in the rosy eyes. “Sure.”

“I will win,” Mike said, determined.

Freddy chuckled. Mike may be timid, but he sure was resolute when it came to a challenge. “I’ll get it,” Freddy said, rounding to the other hallway. “Foxy, do you want to play?”

Mike perked and looked at the Cove. Maybe…?

“I’m fine,” Foxy said. “Ye two have fun.”

The teen wilted, frowning. He knew that Foxy wasn’t very sociable, but it was obvious he was avoiding Mike. It only twisted the fearful knife deeper that was lodged in Mike’s gut, the fear that Foxy was mad at him for ’87.

Bonnie noticed the gloomy expression. “He’s just not feeling it tonight,” he said quietly to the boy. “He’ll come around.”

Mike really hopes that’s true.

As they wait for Freddy to find the game and come back with it, Mike couldn’t stop himself from asking, “When did you start realizing it was me?”

The question was like a punch to the gut. Bonnie looked at him warily, like he wasn’t sure if Mike was really wanting the answer or not. When Mike didn’t say anything further, Bonnie gave an empty swallow. “When you were under the desk,” he answered.

When Mike was begging for his life. “Did anyone else think that?”

Bonnie wrung his hands. “No,” he said, disappointment coating his voice. “I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“So you were the only one who actually tried?”

“I… Yeah.” Bonnie hated that there was a smugness in the back of mind attached to that.

“You were the only one who thought differently,” Mike said quietly. No one else had bothered, not even Freddy, the most level-headed one here.

But that didn’t change anything in Bonnie’s mind. “But I didn’t help you as much as I should of,” Bonnie said, guilty. “I only held myself back. I didn’t really do anything to try and stop the others.”

That one night came back to Mike in pieces. “You stopped Foxy,” he said quietly. _From killing me_ , was unsaid but still very heard.

“Too late,” Bonnie responded almost instantly. “The new damage to your soul could have been prevented if I had just been faster.”

Those horrible days spent between feverish screaming and uncontrollable sobbing from the nightmares could have never happened, Mike thought bitterly, but he pushed the bitterness aside. From their perspective he had been dead for years. They hadn’t known any better still stuck in their grief. It upset Mike, yes, but he could understand their previous anger towards what they believed was an imposter.

But it still hurt.

“If you never found out who I was, would you have even cared?” Mike couldn’t help but ask. “Even though I had never done anything wrong?” They said they usually just did what they could to scare off the innocent, but Mike didn't need to be told that some hadn't taken the hint.

Bonnie’s eyes became dim, his ears drooping. They had decided the moment Mike had walked in, back when they thought he was just an unlucky night guard, that they were going to kill him. He didn't answer verbally, but his silence was enough.

Mike’s mouth was pulled into a small line. He looked at the floor and said nothing. What else was there to say?

Bonnie felt his wires twist. They could glue this picture back together all they wanted, but nothing would ever make them, make Mike, forget about they’ve done. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice a strained whisper. They all were sorry, but with him being the first to realize the truth, he could have stopped the hunt weeks ago.

 _It’s okay_ , Mike wanted to say, but it wasn’t. It hurt too much for it to be okay. He knew they were sorry, he knew they were, but it still hurt so bad.

It was a hesitant feat, but Bonnie took it. He reached and settled a hand on Mike’s shoulder, squeezing gently. He wanted to do more. He wanted to pick Mike up and hold him close, to reassure him that they would never hurt him again and that they wouldn’t ever leave him alone again, but it was obvious that hugging was a touchy subject. Mike may have hugged Freddy, but he had been stripped raw to the bone that night and had no defenses. Hopefully this was considered alright.

Bonnie’s hand was massive compared to Mike, just like the rest of him, and his uniform was bright against the gentle lilac fur. The animatronics were hulking machines with the power to crush bones and kill people. Right now Bonnie could probably rip off his arm if he really wanted to. They could easily kill him or anyone else whenever they wanted. They _had_ killed people. They _had_ tried to kill Mike. They _had_ hurt him.

But they had done so much more. There were times when Mike would be hungry but didn’t want to impose on the families of his friends, so the animatronics would sneak him food and sweets. There were times when Mike would burst into tears from being teased or from being overwhelmed, so the animatronics would pick him up no matter what the time or place and hold him close until he calmed down. There were times when Mama would forget to come pick him up, so the animatronics would spend the night playing with him and making him feel better before tucking him in the makeshift bed they would make in the supply closet or security office. There were times where everyone else was busy playing or the others were performing, so Foxy would bring him into the Cove to play or talk with just him.

They had hurt and killed people. They had hurt and devastated _him_. But they had also been the only ones there for him that didn’t leave on purpose. They were still here, wanting to make up for what they’ve done to him and wanting to stay. They weren’t being forced or persuaded, they were choosing to stay because they cared, and that was more than Mike could every ask for.

Mike knew he could trust them. He didn’t fully trust them yet, but he knew he would, because they were actively trying to earn it.

So Mike just reached and squeezed Bonnie’s hand tightly and swallowed the tight sensation in his throat.

-

Freddy’s ears flicked one last time as the conversation died away.

Just when he thought the shame and guilt couldn’t get worse, it did, but it also made the resolve to help and heal Mike stronger than it already was. They already knew that they were going to dedicate their lives to protecting Mike, but they first needed to show the boy that he could trust them. It was obvious that Mike did trust them, but he was still fearful and cautious.

And that was perfectly fine. No one blamed him for feeling that way. They would fully gain Mike’s trust eventually. They would do what they could and more to repair the damage that they’ve done. They just needed to be patient and gentle with him; and each other.

Then maybe, just maybe, they could be just as close as they had been before.

Freddy let out a silent sigh. Slow and steady with one step at a time. He turned the corner with the game in hand, smiling warmly. “Found it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why can the animatronics eat? Self-indulgence. Why did I make Mike and Bonnie talk about that really awkward time the animatronics were so hellbent on killing him? Plot and self-indulgence. Why did I make Freddy eavesdrop? Mostly self-indulgence but also some plot. Many things are self-indulgent here, but it's making sense isn't it?
> 
> Funny thing: I actually had no idea what to do with Chica when I started this AU. I had everyone else's personalities pretty much down, but I had nothing for Chica. Then I made her a badass mother hen and then I liked her a lot more. Big mama chicken is best chicken.


	3. Little More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike's always kept secrets. Now he's keeping a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter! I'm going to be spending my Saturday at my cousin's wedding (which also falls on the same day as Pride near me and goes through the time>:C) and I might be busy Sunday (it's been raining for days so don't count on me actually getting any outside self-care time)
> 
> I actually answered a question on my tumblr about Mike's self-harm recently and I wanted to address it here. Yes, Mike will experience some relapses with his self-harm. It's inevitable, especially in his case of seven years. He needs love, patience, care, and lots of therapy to help him heal. Mike will eventually be able to stop it for good, but that's not going to be for a while.
> 
> I understand that some of Mike's actions can be triggering for some people, so I want to reiterate that self-harm will be talked about and depicted. I also want to reiterate that I don't wish in any shape or form for romanticize self-harm. It's a very dangerous issue that must be taken seriously. Mike is not a representation of all people who do self-harm, he's one of the many different kinds of people who struggle. **It can happen to anyone.**
> 
> There also is self-degradation in this. Please be aware that it's Mike to himself, not you to yourself.

After Mike waved a final goodbye to the animatronics from the truck, Chris asked, “So are you okay?”

Mike gave him an almost bored look. “I’m alive and fed.”

“You’re becoming a little smartass and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing,” Chris said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “So you’re okay? They didn’t try anything?”

“Of course not. They’re aren’t going to hurt me, Chris.” Mike knew that was true.

The man huffed. “Sure.” He didn’t trust the animatronics as much as Mike did.

They pulled alongside the curb by Logan’s house a few minutes later. Sometimes they alternated between going to Chris’s apartment and Logan’s house. Chris never went home when he was at Logan’s, always sleeping on the couch, so Mike was more than fine with alternating so that Chris could sleep in his own bed.

Petunia was walking out of the door done up in her work outfit. A dark red trench-coat covered most of her. Despite it being March, the air still had a chill.

“Go on out, kiddo. I’ll pull in after she’s out,” Chris said.

Mike got out of the truck and went to Petunia. The woman smiled warmly. “Good morning, Mike,” she greeted. “Everything go okay?”

“Yeah.” Out of everyone, Petunia seemed to be the most open about things. Sure, she was cautious, but she trusted Mike’s judgement. Why was it that the only ones actually taking this well were the women? “We played some more board games again.”

“And the supreme winner?”

A sigh. “Bonnie knows the dictionary inside and out.”

“Well, we’ll have to see about a more updated version. Anything else?”

Mike slung his backpack around and unzipped it. “Chica made cupcakes,” he said, taking out a container. It was the one Petunia had sent him with. “She made you one.”

Petunia eyed the container. “Did you eat _all_ of your leftovers?”

The teen gave a nervous smile. Okay, so maybe he had shared a little with Bonnie. He couldn’t have finished that all by himself. “Yeah,” he said, sheepish.

It was obvious that he hadn’t done it on his own, but Petunia let it go. “That’s very kind of her,” she said. “What kind?”

Mike popped the lid open. There were five inside. “She made you the red one,” he said. It was chocolate with dark red icing and sprinkles topped with crushed cookie crumbs.

The basil eyes took on an eager shine. “Ooh!" She plucked it from the container. “This looks delicious. I’ll eat this with my lunch later.” She smiled at him. “Tell her I said thank you.”

Mike wondered if he would ever see them in the kitchen together. It was a stretch, but he wondered if they would work together or compete. It would be the battle of the century. “I will.”

“I have to go now. Your breakfast’s on the table.” Petunia leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you later, honey pie.”

The kisses were still very new to Mike, and still very capable of making him turn bright red. Despite the jitters they gave him, Mike couldn’t help but feel special when he got one. “O-okay,” he stammered, bright-cheeked. “Bye, Petunia.”

When she pulled out of the driveway and left, Chris pulled in. He got out of the truck, smirking. “Your face is redder than a stop sign.”

Mike sent him a weak glare. “Shut up.”

When they got inside, Logan was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and plate of breakfast. True to her word, plates for Mike and Chris were set up. A mug of coffee was by Chris’s plate and a glass of orange juice was by Mike’s. The girls were still asleep, their places empty.

Logan smiled wearily. “Morning.”

Chris may have been taking the new adjustments hard, but Logan was taking them worse. He looked like he had lost more sleep over it, which Mike knew he had, and seemed incredibly depressed. Why wouldn’t he be; he had just discovered that the robots that he had been put in charge of where consciously killing the employees he constantly had to supply. It was better believing that they were just mindless robots with a glitch. Knowing that they were alive and able to make their own decisions, that they had purposely killed people…

It was hard for him. Mike just wished he could make it better.

Mike and Chris sat down. The janitor went for the coffee almost immediately. Mike wasn’t really one to drink it, only if he was desperate to stay awake, but he had been put on a sort of ban from drinking it. Logan had been somewhat okay with him drinking it, but Petunia had proclaimed that it wasn’t good for a growing boy in his state. She had also said something about coffee stunting growth.

It was okay, Mike liked orange juice a lot better anyway. Though he wouldn't mind if he could just have a little sip of coffee...

“So how were they tonight?” Logan asked.

There were a bunch of questions under that one. “They were fine,” Mike said, idly swirling his orange juice. “I played board games again with Freddy and Bonnie, Chica gave me some cupcakes, and Foxy just…slept.”

It was a better wording for _he avoided me_ , because Mike knew that he was already on thin ice with Logan and Chris. He knew he didn’t actually have to cover for Foxy, it hurt when he had to, but Mike knew it wouldn’t be a thing forever.

Right?

Logan looked relieved. “That’s good.”

Mike set the container on the table. “Chica made you a cupcake,” he said, He got it out. It was vanilla with white and brown twist icing, cookie crumbs topping it like Petunia’s.

It brought a genuine smile to Logan’s face. “Looks great,” he said, taking it. “I’ll save it for lunch.”

That was a step in the right direction. Chica had been debating whether or not if she was bold enough to try and send them food, but it seemed to be working. Mike grabbed Chris’s cupcake and handed it to him. “Yours, too.”

Chris looked at it for a moment. It was chocolate and had dark green icing and cookie crumbs. It did look good, he would admit, but he didn’t want to accept it. The desperation lining Mike’s face, however, made him sigh and take it. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“She made some for the girls, too. I already had some.” Mike looked at them. His was the same as his first one – Mike just had to have another – and the girls both had vanilla cupcakes with swirled yellow and pink icing. They had sprinkles instead of cookie crumbs, a little sugar candy smiley face on both.

“Rosie likes to gnaw on those,” Logan said. “I’ll put that where they can’t get it. They’d be begging to eat it the moment they saw it and I’d rather them have it for lunch.”

They ate. Mike had been improving on eating more and had actually gained a little weight. Not much, but it was progress. Of course Mike could only eat so much before he got sick, so his portions were still small. Still, he was gaining weight and getting stronger. He could feel the difference even though it was minuscule at the moment.

Mike set down his fork halfway through his meal and rubbed his eye. Both were dry and his eyelids felt heavy. He had been sleeping fine for the past few days; no nightmares. If he was having any he didn't remember them, and they usually stuck with him for most of the day.

Logan noticed the harsh eye rubbing. “Why don’t you head up and sleep, sport?” he suggested. “I’ll put your leftovers away.”

Mike stood up, yawning. “Okay.”

Chris patted his back. “See you later, kiddo.”

The teen was careful when passing the girls’ room and slipped into his. He shut the door carefully behind him, letting out a small sigh and relaxing. It was untouched and just as he left it. No one had been in here while he was gone.

Good.

Mike gripped his arms. His jaw was practically aching to bite something and his skin felt too tight. He needed to do something, he needed to pinch or bite or scratch at his skin. He had been hiding it so well and probably could have tricked himself into ignoring it, but he just couldn’t. It was an itch that needed scratched, a punishment and need that had to be given.

He went for his one pillow, unzipping the side and reaching inside. Mike didn’t even wince when the tip of his finger caught on the blade. He simply maneuvered and grabbed it, sliding it out of the pillow case. It was a small blade, barely anything at all and fairly dull, but Mike had been sharpening it outside with rocks whenever they went to the park. He had gotten it from a pencil sharpener. It had been old and just tossed in the back of a drawer, so no one was using it. Still, smashing something open that had Caitlyn’s name scrawled in permanent marker didn’t make it any easier. The plastic debris sat in the nightstand drawer.

He had found it two days after reconciling with the animatronics, and the teen just couldn’t help himself.

He hadn’t really done anything with it. He hadn’t. It wasn’t like he was actually cutting himself, he was just…poking himself. Mike would lightly drill into his skin with an edge. Enough to break the skin and bleed, but not enough to really hurt. Mike had screwed up the first time experimenting and had drilled a small hole into his left wrist, but it was far enough down where he could hide it with his sleeve. He mostly took to his legs for that.

Sometimes, only sometimes, he would give in and draw light lines across his skin. The blood would come to the surface, sometimes he’d make himself bleed just a little, but it was only sometimes.

Despite the minimal damage he was doing to himself, it felt a lot worse.

He only did three holes this time, two down from the five that he had put on his one hip. It wasn’t enough, so he pulled down his pants and lightly ran it across the top of his right thigh. It was sharp enough to make little beads of blood bubble past the thin openings. It had Mike's heart pounding painfully against his chest. The release that it gave Mike was barely there anymore. The need to punish, however, was still strong in his heart, weighing him down like an anchor stuck to the seafloor. The teen forced himself to stop, gritting his teeth and holding back the tears.

He didn’t need this anymore. _He. Didn’t. Need. This._ He didn’t need to be punished anymore… Right? Mike knew that was true, but he doubted it all the time. He was loved now. He had people looking after him and taking care of him. He had the animatronics back, the ones that had always been there for him. Everything was nearly perfect, _so why can’t I stop? Why can’t I just stop and be good?_

Despite the control he had in his life now, Mike still felt like he was spiraling.

He looked at himself. Freddy had attempted to lighten his scars again. Both his arms were still littered with them, but they were a little lighter. The rest of him was still untouched, Freddy not wanting to exert Mike and hurt him. There was just something about scar tissue that was hard to heal. For Freddy to understand off the bat just how they made him feel and attempt to take away the shame Mike couldn’t shake… Some tears escaped him. Everyone just wanted to help him, and yet here he was with a razor breaking every promise he had made.

He was too weak to stop. He was always weak. Sir’s words were right as always, always echoing in the back of his head.

Mike forced himself to put the razor away. He knew he should go downstairs and tell Logan and Chris what he’d done, throw it away or watch them throw it away, but he just couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t strong enough to face them after what he just did.

The boy settled himself into bed. Mike brought up his hand and lightly chewed on it, glancing at the door from time to time. Not enough to break through, but enough to leave a temporary imprint. He really was getting better, honest. He didn’t spend too much time poking himself anymore, he spent more time teething on his hands. That was a step up because he wasn’t actually hurting himself. Sometimes he’d slip, but it wasn’t too common.

He _would_ stop. He promised he would. He just… He just needed a little more time.

The room felt cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That secret's going to be found out eventually, Mike. If it already hasn't been already...


	4. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having their powers for years, the animatronics never really named them. It was high time they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Looking at my characters** "I have absolutely fucked you all in another world."
> 
>  **The characters** "What?"
> 
> I have a feeling everyone's eager to get back to the Main AU after reading those angst trainwrecks from the Bad Endings. Just remember that Mike's safe and happy in this AU...for the moment. (Seriously though, he's okay, praise the baby bean's safety) It's family time again, yo.

Freddy was there to greet him at the door when Mike came in that night. The bear smiled at him. “Hello, Michael.”

Mike smiled back. Despite what happened in the recent past and Freddy’s size, that warm smile reminded Mike just how much they really cared. “Hi, Freddy.”

After sleeping for a few hours, Mike had woken up just in time for the weather to take a pleasant turn. Logan and Petunia had gotten Rosie and Caitlyn ready to go outside, so they all went for a walk in the park. Mike got to hold Buddy’s leash, Chris taking it at times to even things out. Despite the warming temperature, Mike still wore long clothing. The only time someone said something was when Petunia suggested he change to a thinner long-sleeved shirt so he wouldn’t overheat.

Sometimes Mike was overwhelmed by the reality that people cared. His eyes had stung for while.

Aside from that paranoid feeling of being watched – Mike had brushed the coldness of the room off as just a draft because it had to be that – and giving into his urges, the day had been nice.

It didn’t disappear when he went in for his shift. Mike just wished he didn’t have to bring the dumb bat.

“We’ve been busy with something while you’ve been gone,” Freddy said. He turned, gesturing Mike to follow. “Come here.”

Mike tilted his head. Busy with what?

Everyone was on their knees at one of the party tables talking to each other. There were papers and crumpled balls scattered around it. Foxy and Chica were sitting across from Bonnie and presumably Freddy. There was a chair at the end of the table apparently reserved for Mike.

Chica looked over Bonnie and smiled. “Hi, Mikey,” she greeted. Bonnie turned around and echoed her greeting.

Foxy jolted. He looked over, smiling nervously. “Hey, lad.”

Mike gave a small wave. “Hi.”

Mike and Freddy settled into their spots at the table. The teen looked at the table. Most of the papers were scribbled on with drawings and games from the animatronics. Tic-tac-toe seemed to be an ongoing war between Bonnie and Chica from the looks of purple and red crayon on most of them. Mike had learned that Chica was very competitive and that Bonnie was incredibly stubborn. Apparently they would have games that lasted weeks because either would back down or admit their losses until Freddy decided it was time to break it up.

“So what are you guys doing?” Mike asked.

“We’ve had these powers for so long that we haven’t thought of any official names for them,” Freddy told him. “We think it’s time changed that.”

"We've come up with a name for one power, but the others are kind of duds," Bonnie added.

Then Mike noticed the list. The list of names and words for their powers wasn’t too long. Everyone’s ideas were color-coded by color. With the crayons in front of everyone, Mike could tell that Freddy’s was blue, Bonnie’s was red, Chica’s was purple, and Foxy’s was yellow. Mike had to admit that their handwriting was pretty good. Better than his.

“You can put something down too, sweetie,” Chica said, encouraging him.

Mike found a crayon that looked relatively pointed. It was pink, but he didn’t really care. He looked at the paper and frowned. “I don’t really have any ideas.”

“It’s okay. At least you tried to think of something.” Chica looked pointedly at Foxy. “Unlike someone.”

“I’m totally serious about calling extensions of our powers bitch-whips,” Foxy piped up, glaring at her. “I wanted it to be fuck-whips, but _no_.”

“There’s a line that we shouldn’t cross, Foxy.”

“Fuck that, I’ll cross it fer ye.”

Mike had also learned that Foxy swore. A lot. He remembered the few times that Foxy would swear in front of him as a child, almost always on accident, but it had definitely become more ingrained into his vocabulary. He wouldn’t say it, but Foxy and Chris were really alike. Mike didn’t mind it. Honestly it was funny to hear Foxy swear with how heavy his accent was.

“We don’t know what to call what comes off our souls,” Freddy chimed in, distracting Mike from Foxy and Chica’s spat. “We have a few names, but none of them really feel right.”

A word instantly came to Mike’s mind. “Ink,” he blurted.

Everyone looked at him, curious. Mike shrank down a little at the attention.

“I’d call it Ink,” Freddy agreed. “It’s much better sounding than goo.” Mike couldn’t help but giggle. Freddy looked at him, raising an amused brow. “What?”

It was so dumb and childish, but Freddy’s voice with that word… “You said goo,” Mike whispered.

Then the others began to snicker. Now that Mike had mentioned it, it sounded way funnier that Freddy had said it. His deep voice just made it too funny.

The icy eyes rolled playfully. “None of you have changed.” He looked at the paper. “So Ink?”

Everyone took a minute to recover. “Yeah,” Bonnie said. He looked at everyone. “Sound good?”

Everyone agreed. Mike felt strangely proud that his suggestion had been chosen.

“What about the extensions?” Freddy asked. He looked at Foxy sharply when the fox opened his mouth. “No.”

The fox snorted and flicked his tail. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Be borin’ fer all I care.”

After looking at the suggestions again, and Chica sharply crossing out Foxy’s, they agreed on Lines. It made sense and was very accurate.

“What about when we signal to each other?” Bonnie brought up next. “You know, like this?” His eyes flickered a few times, switching back and forth.

Mike shivered faintly. Still felt weird.

“We could call it flickering,” Chica suggested. “That’s basically what we’re doing anyway.”

Foxy grinned. “Like those little bugs that glow durin’ the summer.”

Mike thought for a moment. “Lightning bugs?”

“I’ve heard them called fireflies,” Freddy added, his smile touched with nostalgia. “They’re very nice to see.”

“How come they’re called fireflies and lightning bugs if they’re not on fire or shooting lighting?” Bonnie asked, flicking his ears idly.

The boy shrugged. “They’re just really bright like both.”

“Foxy ate one once,” Chica told him, smirking at Foxy. “You could see it glowing through his chest.”

“Drove me fuckin’ crazy; crawlin’ on my wires and tappin’ my endoskeleton.” He growled, annoyed at the very thought. “Never thought I’d get it out.”

Mike grimaced. “How’d you eat it?”

“He snuck outside and chased some around for about five minutes before he caught one,” Freddy explained matter-of-factly. “He named it Buggy and wanted to keep it so bad. It took him an hour for him to admit that Buggy was bothering him.”

Foxy rolled his eyes, pouting lightly. His wires were burning so hot that he hoped they would light him on fire so he wouldn’t have to hear about that stupid bug again.

Mike suppressed his giggle.

After a few more minutes of talking, Bonnie picked up the paper. “Okay, here’s what we have down. The stuff our souls give off is called Ink, extensions called Lines, Flickering is when we give off two short bursts of energy if we need someone, Echoing is when we use someone else’s ability as our own by connecting with them, and Tears are cuts on the soul.”

Everyone nodded. “That sounds about right,” Freddy said. “Does that sound fine to everyone?”

“I’m good with it,” Bonnie said.

“Ditto,” Chica added.

“Yeah,” Mike said.

“Sure,” Foxy drawled.

“Then it’s settled that those are official titles. We’ll have to get used to using them from now on.” Freddy looked at Foxy. “You can return to your nap now, Foxy.”

Foxy stood up. “Thank fuck,” he said, stretching. “Ye don’ wake up a sleepin’ fox.”

“As we’ve all learned,” Bonnie mumbled. “Nearly took my head off that one time.”

“Self-defense.”

“You nearly killed me.”

“Oh, ye’re bein’ dramatic.”

“Not really.”

Bonnie let out an undignified cry whenever a crayon was flicked at him. Chica was grinning. “Rematch.” It was a demand.

The rabbit matched her expression. “Sure.”

Mike watched as Foxy walked away. The teen frowned. He found himself almost scrambling out of his chair and jogging after the animatronic. “Foxy?”

Foxy turned back, obviously surprised. “Yeah?”

“How do you do that thing?”

“What thing?”

“That eating thing. I can’t do it.” Mike felt his cheeks flush. It looked so easy, too. “I smashed a cupcake in my face instead.”

Foxy gave a sympathetic smile, chuckling. “Sounds like the problems we had.” He glanced at Chica. “Chica, I’m takin’ one of yer cupcakes ta give him a lesson.”

She waved her hand back at him. “Sure.”

A Line extended from Foxy’s wrist and shot towards the kitchen. He had grabbed a cupcake in no time and brought it back to his hand. Foxy’s powers worked really fast, Mike noted. He always used to be hyper, so it shouldn’t have been surprising.

“The key is ta just relax.” He held the cupcake towards Mike. “Try it.”

Lines slithered from Mike’s palms. They took the cupcake from Foxy’s hand, an achievement Mike would take on its own, and held it.

“Now just ease yer Lines back a little. Relax.”

It took Mike a minute to figure out just how to do so. His Lines steadily grew over parts of cupcake, and the teen let out a sharp gasp at the feeling. He was _eating_ it. It was like eating normally but without using his mouth. He couldn’t help but drop the treat, so startled at the feeling. A Line came from Foxy’s elbow and caught it. It looked almost like an apple core.

Mike shuddered. “That feels weird.”

Foxy shrugged. He set it in Mike’s hand. “Wouldn’ know. It’s always been fine fer me.”

“Liar.” Mike looked back to see Freddy approaching. “You were moaning for hours how gross and horrible it was. You only kept eating because you loved strawberries so much.”

The pirate shrugged. “Not how I remember it.” Though it was obvious he did. He smiled at Mike. “Ye’ll get used ta it eventually.”

Mike returned it gratefully. “At least I won’t get icing in my hair anymore.”

“Which is very long, by the way,” Freddy chimed in. “I think you need a trim.”

Mike blew some jostled hair from his face. “Do not.”

“I think it looks fine as it is,” Foxy said. “Ye always liked it long.”

The sky-blue eyes blinked. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

Something passed by Foxy’s eyes. His cheerful expression faded into uneasiness. He managed a smile, but it was forced and awkward. “I’ll see ye later, lad,” he said.

When the curtains to the Cove stopped swaying, Freddy settled a hand on Mike’s shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. “He’ll come around,” he said. “Trust me when I say he wants nothing more than to hug you.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” Mike couldn’t help but sound hurt.

“Because he thinks he doesn’t deserve that from you. He’s scared that he could hurt you somehow. He’s always had trouble being gentle.” A small pat. “You’ll see.”

Mike really hoped he would see, because he had no clue when or if he and Foxy could be real friends again.

Freddy frowned softly at Mike’s crestfallen expression. He gently nudged the teen towards the table. “Would you like to try your bets with tic-tac-toe?” he asked.

The raven-head gave him an almost bored glance. “Bonnie and Chica would beat me.”

Freddy raised a brow. “I didn’t say with them,” he said, his tone playful.

Mike mirrored his expression. “You play tic-tac-toe?”

“Not much, but enough where I can hold my own for a while against the rabid monsters I would call my children.”

Rabid was right. Mike shrugged. “I’m not really good at it.”

Freddy chuckled. “Neither am I.” He steered Mike towards the table. “Go easy on me, okay? Whenever I lose, the others say it’s because I’m old.”

Mike snorted. “Aren’t you only, like, two years older than them?”

The bear casted him a surprised glance. “I’m amazed you remember that number from how young they act. That’s exactly how much older I am, yet apparently I’m just an old robot who can’t remember where I put my microphone.”

“You can’t remember!” Chica piped up from the table. She didn’t take her eyes off of the paper. “Bonnie, I swear I’m going to kill you if you even think of taking that square.”

Bonnie looked at her, smirked slyly, and crossed out her chosen square with an ‘X’.

It took a second for a crayon to be flung at his face. It took less than that for retaliation. Crayons were soon flying everywhere.

Freddy held back an exasperated sigh and looked down at Mike. “I think the stage is safer.”

Mike couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foxy, you're actually making things between you and Mike more awkward, you fucking idiot.
> 
> These aren't all the names, however. There's still a lot for Mike and the animatronics to discover about their powers ;)


	5. It's Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike finally finds out where Goldie's been hidden away. Naturally upon the discovery, (almost) all hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I've been multitasking between Bad Endings and Before and now a new fic that will be up soon once the spam that's flooded AO3 chills out a little more (If you haven't seen AO3's tweet they've gotten a bunch of spam and now new work may take a few hours to show up. Sucks but they're doing their best). Also I've been much more scatterbrained lately due to some restlessness and the heat (I feel sick most of the time from it honestly)
> 
> Unfortunately I wrote most of the last part very sleep-deprived, so I'll probably tweak it a little more later when I'm more coherent. Thanks for being patient for this.

_“I can lead you to the sealed room, but you have to hurry.”_

Mike nearly jumped out of his skin at Scotty’s voice. He looked over his shoulder but he saw no one. All he could do was feel a faint chill. “Scotty!” he hissed quietly, heart pounding. “A little warning next time?”

“Sorry, champ. I’m just trying not to alert the others.”

Mike was in the office, now previously alone. He had excused himself from playing a game with Bonnie and Chica for some time to think. Freddy was in the backroom tidying up after a clumsy employee had knocked over a lot of stuff and hadn’t told anyone and Foxy was in the Cove. The fox had declined to play with them – again – and hadn’t been heard from his hideaway since.

As usual.

“Sealed room?” Mike asked, echoing Scotty’s previous words. “What sealed room?”

He could practically feel the frown. “You know the room.”

Mike froze up.

_The power had gone out. Mikey was trembling, sobbing loudly with his eyes shut tightly like he could hide._

_“Mikey, come on!” Tyler shouted over the screams of other children and yelling of parents. “We’re going to the secret party room!”_

_Mikey couldn’t say anything past his sobs._

_“He’s being a stupid baby, Tyler,” Zoey sneered. “Just leave him alone.”_

_Zoey was angry at Mikey because he had spilled juice on her and a picture of her parents she had brought the last time they were here. She had raved and yelled at him, calling him stupid and clumsy and proclaiming that she wasn’t friends with him anymore, until her grandma had steered her over to the bathroom to clean her up. He was stupid and clumsy just like Sir always said. Mikey had cried himself out in Bonnie’s arms._

_He just wanted her to be his friend again._

_“Come on, kids,” a voice said quietly. It was rough and haunted. “We’ll be late for the secret party.”_

_Mikey didn’t care about a party, he just needed light._

_He heard them walking away even over the uproar. The teary blues peeked, but he couldn’t see them past the running people. His wails started again._

_Heavy footsteps behind him. “Mikey!” Foxy picked him up with ease and settled him against the fluffy chest. “Sweet pea, are ye alright?”_

_Mikey couldn’t stop crying._

_Foxy gently kissed his head, mimicking the sound perfectly. “It’s alright, Mikey. Nothin’s goin’ ta happen ta ye while I’m here. Let’s got sit in the Cove until the power comes back on.”_

_Heavier footsteps. “Foxy, is that Michael?” Freddy’s voice rang out, deep and calm. A hand settled on the back of his head, brushing down the wild locks of hair. “Oh, pumpkin, it’s okay. We’ll go turn the power back on.”_

_“Freddy!” Bonnie called. The pizzeria was empty now. “The generator’s shot! It’s sparking pretty bad and the tools are gone!”_

_A sigh. “Employees… Alright, I’ll turn on the spare in the safe room.”_

_“Why weren’t the people put back there anyway? Isn’ that what it’s fer?”_

_“It was so sudden, Foxy. I’m sure no one was thinking straight or even remembered it. Besides, it wouldn’t be a good idea to crowd panicked children in the same room."_

__

__

_“True.” Foxy nuzzled Mikey’s hair. “I’ll be with Mikey in the Cove. Hopefully I can find that spare flashlight fer Mikey.”_

_“Okay.” A gentle pat to the head. “The power will be back on in no time, Michael. Just hold tight.”_

Mike felt like he was dragged out of the memory. Scotty’s cold touch on his shoulder was grounding. “I’m… I’m sorry, Mike.”

Mike just shrugged. “I’ll open up the room.”

It was easy sneaking past Bonnie and Chica’s radars. Both of them were so invested in the game that they didn’t notice Mike slipping from the hallway and to the bathrooms. He went past the bathroom to the left to the small end of the hallway.

By Mike’s best guess, the door had probably been stripped of its handle and covered as if it was completely part of the wall. That meant that the door was going to be tricky to open and possibly be riddled with noises when he would open it. The only question was its exact location. Mike didn’t want to waste any time getting the door revealed and getting Goldie out.

“What do I do?” Mike whispered. The one time the bat would actually come in handy was when stealth was involved.

“Just start chipping away at it,” Scotty answered just as quietly.

“How?”

“I’ve got you.”

Mike stiffened, sucked in a breath. His skin felt the cool air in his pores; his powers were acting up. He could feel Scotty, the spirit’s Lines brushing against his own and sending power straight to his soul. He could practically feel the darkening of his eyes, the milky irises darting around and examining the wall at blinding speed. His fingers became tipped with pointed ends, black and razor sharp.

“Just keep that energy going. I’ll be lookout.”

The teen reached and began to scratch it away.

It was a tedious task. Mike was thankful, for once, that the animatronics left him alone. Not once did they come over, Bonnie and Chica still battling it out and Freddy still in the backroom. He began picking off bigger pieces of the wall and gently setting them down. The wall wasn’t thick, it was so thin that just one chunk revealed the door, chalky and sealed tight. Mike grunted quietly, his eyes flickering. There was still so much to go.

After nearly twenty more minutes of picking at the wall, the door was finally fully revealed. It was covered in dust from the paint, a mixture of the pizzeria’s colors now faded and chalky. Instead of a knob it was a handle that had been rusted over time, which Mike noticed with surprise. It was a small detail, however, and Mike ignored it and grabbed the handle. It was hard to turn, but a quick jerk downwards had it swinging inwards with a soft squeal. How the hinges never gave out was beyond Mike.

The acrid smell of dust, and something else, seemed to settle on him, and Mike covered his mouth to fight off the urge to cough and sneeze. How long had this been walled up? The room was pitch black, the dim light of the bathroom hallway just barely penetrating the dark. A shudder ran down his spine. It wasn’t just the dark that made Mike uncomfortable; something was wrong with this room. He went in, the darkness enveloping him like a thick blanket during summer, and suddenly his eyes adjusted so fast that they started to ache.

The room wasn’t too big, just the size of a normal living room. The paint on the wall was chipped and falling apart, pieces of the ceiling dangling from strings and disconnected wires. Three arcade machines, pale and covered in cobwebs, were settled against the wall across the room. Mike couldn’t make out their logos even with his strange night vision. The floor was covered in a layer of dust.

The bear was against the wall, to the right of the arcade machines. He was just like how Mike saw him, but the suit seemed much more decrepit in person. Goldie was riddled with holes and was dirty. He was slumped, most of his weight off to one side, and his eyes were empty. To anyone else, it would have just been a creepy, empty suit left to rot. To Mike, it was a mysterious, sentient suit left to rot.

White dots flickered in the eye sockets and instantly found Mike. “Hey, totty. You found me.”

Mike fought from outright gaping. Seeing Goldie in person was…weird. “I guess I did,” he said, not really sure what to say.

The bear chuckled. His body was still with the sound. “Come on over. I don’t… Well, I can’t bite, actually. I can’t move.”

That got a small chuckle out of Mike. The teen obeyed in coming closer. Mike stopped and dropped into a small crouch in front of the bear. Goldie seemed to be smiling despite his emptiness.

“Nice to properly meet you, tater tot,” Goldie chirped. “All that connecting was getting really disorienting.”

The nickname still confused him, but Mike was more curious about how Goldie knew about him. “How did you know who I was at first?”

“Oh, we’ve been watching you the moment you started working here,” Goldie said matter-of-factly. Mike blinked. “Yeah, it sounds creepy, but we were pretty worried about you. We can’t really do much but watch, but we tried looking out for you, you know? We did what we could the other day.”

Mike felt the pieces fall into place. “You possessed me.” He wasn’t sure how freaked out he should be at that.

“Yep.” Goldie seemed pretty cheerful about it. “We helped you survive the night after Foxy got you. Sorry if we scared you; had to make it look authentic enough to get the others away.”

The teen looked around. “Scotty?”

A color spotted spirit appeared next to Goldie. “Sorry about that, champ. Just doing a little sweep of the building for everyone,” Scotty said, sheepish. “Just a little scared, you know?”

“Oh, so you were going to ditch me.” Goldie huffed. “Well, I’d probably do the exact same if I had the ability to walk.”

“I was not going to ditch you,” Scotty retorted, though his tone was playful. "I just don't want us to die."

“Sure, sure.” Goldie would be waving his hand if he could.

Mike smiled a little and relaxed somewhat. This wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. He thought for a moment. “How do you have a soul? Where did you come from? How long have you been back here?”

Goldie seemed to startle at that. “One step at a time, totty.” He seemed to be preparing, even if he wasn’t moving. “You see, tater tot, I’m not from this pizzeria. Long story short, I ended up here after the place I was at closed.”

“Another pizzeria?” Mike tilted his head confusedly. This pizzeria had been the most famous for having the only animatronics in its entire chain. “I didn’t know there was another one with animatronics. What was it called?”

“Uh, actually, totty.” Goldie’s voice was sheepish. “It’s kind of a sore sport for me, you know? I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me either,” Scotty said in reassurance.

Mike bit his lip. “Sorry,” he apologized honestly.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know. And, uh, I’d rather not answer the soul question either. Bad memories, yeah?”

Mike nodded, guilty.

“I’ve been back here for a long time, even before Roger…” He paused. “I’ve actually lost track of the years. It’s been a while.”

And Scotty had only died a few months ago, so that meant… “Were you here all alone?” Mike asked quietly. In the dark and alone for years was a horrific and very familiar experience he had.

“I was.” Goldie seemed cheerful. “But not anymore. I really appreciate you coming for me, totty. Thank you so much.”

Mike smiled.

“Now…” Goldie began, his voice filled with promise. “We actually didn’t think we’d get this far,” he finished, his tone becoming flat.

The teen tilted his head, frowning softly. Right that was the other issue. “You’re not good with planning, are you?”

“Hey, it’s pretty tough to keep your head straight when you’re sharing a connection with him,” Scotty said.

“Thanks, Scotty. Really appreciate the support.”

Mike heard the footsteps a second too late. “Michael?"

Mike’s head whipped around, Goldie’s eyes darting past the teen’s shoulder, to see Freddy standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide with shock and muted horror, his jaw agape just so. It scared Mike, seeing Freddy with that expression.

“Shit,” Goldie said.

Freddy snapped out of his daze. He was storming across the room, his icy eyes filling with black. “Michael, get away from him!” he ordered. His white eyes were on Goldie, burning with anger.

Mike shrank down. “Wait, wait, wait!” he yelled, waving his hands. “He’s okay, he didn’t do anything!”

“He’s dangerous!” Freddy exclaimed. A line came zipping out of Freddy’s wrist and wrapped around Mike’s waist. He yanked the teenager back, earning a yelp, and placed Mike beside him. “Go to the office. Now.”

“Hey, let’s just calm down here!” Goldie piped up. His pupils seemed to be trembling. “I’m not who you think I am, I swear!”

“I think you’re exactly who you are,” Freddy growled. His hands were practically glowing with black. He looked back down at Mike. “Michael, go to the office. I’ll handle this.”

Scotty darted in front of Goldie. “He’s not Roger!” he said, his voice picking up a few octaves. That stopped Freddy in his tracks. The previous night guard? “H-he’s not Roger; honest! He’s just like you guys!”

Mike could hear the others in the main room. He had to at least get Freddy on his side so that the others wouldn’t tear Goldie apart. He slipped around the brown bear, Freddy’s eyes darting to him. Mike shrank down. “He’s okay,” he said. “He didn’t hurt me; honest. He just asked for my help.”

“Freddy?” Foxy called. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Is everything okay?” Chica’s voice joined in.

Freddy was looking at Mike bewilderingly, his emotions conflicted. He looked at Goldie and Scotty, who both seemed to be cowering just so. This is what Mike had been looking for, the one thing that Freddy dreaded that he’d find, but this didn’t make sense. The only way for the suit to be functioning was that there was a spirit inside. The Children had attached to them, but they had never seen Cassidy’s grave since she refused to let them see it, and she was gone. The voice coming from the suit wasn’t Roger, it was someone else, but Freddy couldn’t think of who.

“We’ll explain everything,” Scotty said, his voice cautious.

“Just don’t kill us,” Goldie added. “Scotty’s already dead, but you know.”

"Goldie, shut up," the spirit hissed.

Mike tugged on Freddy’s hand. “Please?”

Freddy stared at him. What could he say?

“What the hell?!” Bonnie screeched. The three turned to see Foxy, Bonnie, and Chica standing near the doorway.

Foxy’s eyes bled to black in an instant. “Ye bastard!” he roared, darting into the room. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ye this time!”

Freddy intercepted the massive fox, holding Foxy in a tight bear hug. Foxy struggled, screeching and swearing. Mike back away swiftly, his eyes wide. Bonnie and Chica were looking into the room, their faces a mixture of anger and terror. His back hit the wall, his body breaking into tremors. The faint light was catching on Foxy's snapping jaws. He could feel the shadows crawling over his shoes.

“Foxy, calm down,” Freddy said, his voice strangely steady.

“He’s been in here the whole fuckin’ time!” Foxy snarled. Ink dripped from his eyes. “He’s just beggin’ fer us ta kill him!” His fangs were bared. Mike swore they had blood on them.

Goldie must have noticed Mike’s shaking. The white eyes narrowed just a tad, like he was glaring. “Knock it off!” he shouted. “You’re scaring the him!”

Foxy’s struggles lessened, but just enough. His white eyes searched and found Mike. The teen was shaking, his eyes wet and lip bitten enough to bleed. Mike sniffled, then sneezed quietly, shifting. Foxy stopped moving all together, guilt stabbing at his soul. Freddy’s grip loosened, but he held tight so that Foxy wouldn’t pull a fast one and rip the other bear apart.

“He’s going to catch something in here,” Goldie spoke up after a moment. “Like I said, I’ll explain everything, but I’d rather not be in here any longer. Plus I have no clue what he’s breathing in.”

Freddy steadily released Foxy, who had turned his attention onto Mike. He went towards the teenager instead of Goldie. Mike looked up at him, and Foxy didn’t know if there was a more heartbreaking sight than seeing Mike look so scared. He made sure to keep a distance of arm’s length.

“I’m sorry, Mikey,” the fox murmured. “I didn’ mean ta scare ye.”

Mike gave a small nod, his eyes skittering away. The blood on Foxy’s teeth just wouldn’t go away. He looked at Goldie and Scotty and moved towards them. Foxy felt his soul give a weak and frightened pulse.

“Let’s go outside,” Freddy said. He raised a brow at Goldie. “But you can’t move.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“My endoskeleton’s gone,” Goldie said. “And it’s a nightmare to use some of my power to walk. Scotty and I are still recovering after… You know.”

Foxy’s jaw clenched and Freddy’s face became closed off. Bonnie's eyes became a little distance and Chica looked at Mike. He said nothing.

Being an empty suit, Freddy and Foxy carried Goldie out with ease. They sat him at one of the party tables, where he slumped back into his position, but he didn’t seem to mind. Everyone got into a place where they were comfortable with, and Mike stood next to Goldie. He felt like he still needed to play the peacekeeper.

“So, who are you if you’re not Roger?” Freddy asked, suspicion still coating his seemingly calm tone.

“My name’s Goldie,” the golden bear said. “I’m from a different restaurant; like I told Mike, I’m not comfortable with talking about how I ended up like this, so that’ll be a story for another day. Also really sore about my soul too, so...”

“Ye expect us ta trust ye when ye won’ tell us where ye came from,” Foxy said flatly.

“It’s kind of a sore spot for me,” Goldie said. “I get you guys think there’s a specific reason as to why I’m here, but have you considered that maybe my place just got shutdown?”

None of the animatronics looked convinced.

Mike shifted. “I trust him,” he said quietly.

Guilt passed over their faces. Mike had every reason to trust the thing that had saved his life.

“W-w-we’ve been in contact through his dreams,” Scotty said, still incredibly nervous. “We’re acquainted.”

“You’ve been seeing each other in dreams?” Chica asked, looking at Mike in surprise. Almost betrayal.

Mike felt strangely guilty despite it being for the greater good. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Scotty told him about his soul,” Goldie said. “And we tried to help him that night. We’ve just been trying to keep him safe.”

“More than we’ve done,” Bonnie muttered, looking at his feet.

 _You’re trying,_ Mike thought.

A moment of quiet.

“…You protected Michael from us that night,” Freddy said. Foxy flinched at ‘us’. “Thank you for that.”

Goldie mimicked blinking. Scotty could practically be heard doing the same. “Oh. Uh, no problem. Anything for the tot here.”

“I can feel your soul from here,” Bonnie suddenly blurted. “But it’s really weak.”

The suit would be nodding if he could. “That possession stunt took a lot out of me.”

That had Mike thinking about something. “Can any of you possess people?” he asked them.

The four looked at each other, curious and surprised. “We’ve never tried,” Bonnie answered.

“But we probably could if he can,” Chica added.

Mike looked at Goldie, eyes wide and eager. The butterscotch bear chuckled. “Fine, I’ll teach you when I’m fixed.”

_Sweet._

“Fixed?” Foxy echoed. He was in disbelief.

“I said I would fix him,” the teen said. “He doesn’t have an endoskeleton and he’s really dirty. He’s miserable.”

“Hey, I’m not that miserable,” Goldie said jokingly. “Just enough for it to hurt.”

Mike looked at the others. They looked unsure, still distrustful of Goldie. He knew they were remembering the Massacre when they looked at the suit. Goldie’s first appearance may not have been his own and against his will, but it would be forever known that he was the suit worn to kill five innocent children.

But Mike wanted them to know just who Goldie really was. “Please?” There were plenty of questions with that plea.

They were all heard. Freddy sighed. “Alright.” Relief washed through the three. He looked at Mike. “Could you call Logan and tell him the news?”

Mike nodded. “Okay.” He turned and went to Logan’s office. Hopefully they could all play nice without him there.

The moment Mike was out of the room, Foxy whipped his gaze to the newcomers. “Listen ta me,” he growled. Goldie and Scotty stared, frozen. “I don’ have a problem with him, but I do have a problem with ye in particular. I don’ fully trust that ye ain’ Patterson doin’ some act. If ye try anythin’ funny, ye hurt Mikey at all, and I’ll fuckin’ rip ye apart until there’s nothin’ left.”

“Already knew that,” Goldie said, though his sarcasm was masked by a meekness. “Got it.”

Mike returned a few minutes later. “He’s on his way over,” he announced.

That had everyone raising their brows in surprise. They hadn’t interacted with Logan at all. The man was barely here anymore after the truth had come out. They didn’t blame him.

Logan showed up alone. He probably hadn’t even bothered to wake Chris up, which Mike was thankful for. The chocolate eyes darted around the animatronics, fearful and reluctant. The four stepped back a few steps, attempting to be disarming. Logan fully entered the room after a moment.

“Hey, sport,” Logan greeted, his voice quiet but cheerful. He ruffled the black locks. “Never a dull moment with you, huh?”

Mike ignored the pinch he felt at 'dull'. He swore he felt Scotty staring at him. _Just a draft,_ he reminded himself. That cold air that day hadn’t been anything.

Freddy cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. Miller,” he greeted.

Logan was still wary, but he waved his hand. “Logan’s fine.”

Good start, everyone thought.

“This is Goldie,” Mike said, introducing the bear. “Scotty’s here too.”

The blond looked around. There was a sad desperation in his eyes. “Scotty?”

The chill moved next to the man. “Right here, boss,” the other replied.

“He’s right next to you,” Mike told Logan. “And he called you boss.”

Logan let out a sad laugh.

Goldie quivered a little. “I’d turn around and shake your hand, but hopefully you’ll accept the side of my head as a greeting instead.”

Logan stared at him for a moment. “I was told about some extra room, but I was also told never to unseal it and take anything out. Now I see why.”

The suit almost seemed to wilt. “Yeah.”

“I’m fixing him.” It was such a firm statement that Logan actually gaped a little at Mike. The sky-blue eyes were determined. “I’m going to need a lot of soap for his fur.”

“Oh, thank the stars,” Goldie groaned. “Do you know how gross I feel? Really gross. I used to be very clean, you know? I used to sparkle I was so clean.”

Mike giggled a little. Logan gave a weak chuckle. “I’ll make sure to purchase more,” he said. “We’re low anyways.”

A complete lie, but at least the manager was being optimistic.

Now it was Mike’s turn. He gave a small smile. “Everyone’s going to be able to get along, right?”

Everyone eventually answered yes, but it took enough time where Mike knew that the others were going to take a long time to get even somewhat comfortable with the new arrangement.

Logan suddenly startled. "Oh." He looked at Mike. "Mike, there was actually something I needed to tell you."

The teen raised a brow. "What?"

"You're going to be seeing your therapist tomorrow."

Mike felt his stomach drop through the floor and into the center of the Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scale of 1-10 for the tension in the pizzeria right now: 100


	6. Starting Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike meets his new therapist, Amanda. Later, Logan is...Logan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience, understanding, and support, whether it was through comments or thoughts or both. I was absent from writing much longer than I expected but I’m doing much better. I made a small post on my tumblr about Aspen, so if any of you have a tumblr and would like to see what she looked like this is the link: https://ofshippingandpancakes.tumblr.com/post/186312012363/edited-now-that-ive-calmed-down-enough-today-we#notes
> 
> This chapter does contain a snippet of a therapy session but it's nothing explicit.

Mike thought he was going to be sick.

Chris reached over and patted Mike’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Mike,” he said.

As Foxy would say; _“I sure fuckin’ hope it is.”_

They were sitting in a small clinic waiting room, Chris having signed Mike in five minutes ago. Apparently the Company also had connections to a small clinic and Amanda, who lived nearby, got him on her list immediately. Mike wondered just how many people came to see her if he was going to be seeing her for an hour late afternoon.

There were some people in the clinic, parents with children and babies. Mike glanced at them from time to time as they played at the colorful table with toys and books. Mike was always too terrified to play with other children in the few times he was brought to the doctor’s, Sir always looming over him, and so he felt a little jealous that these kids were having fun without the fear of being beat instilled in their minds.

The door opened. A grizzled man came out, dressed in rumpled clothing and with a scowl fixated on his face. He looked as if he was crawled from underneath a rock, his attire almost pajama-like and back slightly hunched.

Chris glanced up from the magazine he was reading, then instantly looked back down. “Mike, look away,” he whispered. It was so quiet that Mike nearly didn’t hear it.

Mike looked at Chris, confused. “What?” he whispered back.

“Look _away_ ,” the janitor hissed.

Mike’s eyes darted down to the magazine he had been holding. He hadn’t really been reading it, but at least it was in his hands so that he wasn’t looking awkwardly into his lap. Despite the order, he couldn’t help but glance up. The unkempt man was staring at Chris. His eyes were a pale green, dead like a fish’s, and his hair was a dirty blond that needed brushed and trimmed. He had grown a grizzly scruff that hadn’t seemed to be shaved in days. There were scars that ran down his face like claw marks, starting above his eyebrows and ending low on his cheeks.

The pale eyes slid to Mike, the teen shrinking underneath the blank stare, and held for a few seconds. They then went back to Chris, who still had his head down, then back to Mike.

Then the man grinned like he had made a shifty promise. “Thanks, Amanda,” he called back into the office, still looking at Mike. His voice was a gruff rumble. “I’ll be back next week.”

“Okay,” a woman called back. Her voice was light and gentle. “I’ll see you next week, Dennis.”

The man, Dennis, strolled to the door. With his hand on the frame, he looked over Chris’s head at Mike with that grin still on his face. Mike suddenly scowled and flashed his eyes. Dennis recoiled slightly, eyes widening and grin disappearing. He practically ripped open the door and hurried out.

Chris jerked his head to Mike. “What did you do?” he hissed quietly.

The teen blinked, the black instantly disappearing from his eyes. He felt a little dizzy. He still wasn’t entirely used to his powers. “I…”

The door to the offices opened again. “Mike?”

Amanda wasn’t too much taller than Mike. Her skin was a fair beige, tattoos peeking from underneath the sleeves rolled back against her wrists. Her hair was a bright and shiny blue, her honey eyes framed with thin blue glasses. A locket was settled on her chest, a bright silver that popped with her dark blue overcoat and white shirt.

Mike and Chris got up and went over. The teen had half the mind to run out the door and hide in the truck.

“Hi.” She held out her hand. “I’m Amanda. It’s nice to meet you, Mike.”

Mike hesitantly took her hand. Hers was soft, but laced with a firmness.

“I’ll take you back to my office.” Amanda looked at Chris. “Would you mind staying out here? At least for the first few sessions until Mike’s more comfortable.”

Chris shrugged. “I’ll be here.” He looked down at Mike and patted the boy’s head. “You’ll be fine.”

Amanda’s office smelled like fresh flowers. Plants lined her windowsill, the ones with blooms bright blues and oranges. Pictures lined the walls with inspirational sayings and quotes, along with a college degree, and there were frames on her dark wooden desk of her and other people. Amanda D. Yoo was engraved on the tag on her desk. It was neatly organized and colorful. A dark blue couch sat in front of her desk, two small boxes in the corner with some beanbags. The ceiling fan above turned steadily.

“Have a seat,” she said, moving past the couch to her desk.

Mike took a seat on the corner of the couch. It was soft and comfortable. There were two cushions on it as well. It was almost like a normal living room couch. _To get people comfortable_ , Mike realized.

“I understand that you don’t speak to your parents and that you don’t want to speak to them,” Amanda said. “They won’t be informed of your whereabouts or your sessions. In the eyes of the Company, you’re guardians are Chris and the Millers.”

That was a little relieving. “Are you going to tell them anything?” Mike asked, his voice a little flat.

She shook her head. “Nothing you say leaves this room unless you give me explicit permission or I feel that your life is in danger. These conversations are completely private and between us.”

That was a little comforting, though not by much. He was still going to be telling her things. Another person would know.

“We’re just going to start getting to know each other,” Amanda said. “Unless there’s something that you feel absolutely needs to be said now, we’ll start small. Does that sound okay?”

Starting small sounded just fine.

\- - - - -

Mike came out sometime later, Amanda following him. The waiting room was empty.

Chris set aside the magazine he had been reading and stood. “Hey, kiddo,” he greeted. “You feeling okay?”

Mike gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

“We’ve made times for Tuesday and Friday,” Amanda said. She handed Chris the card. “Just call if there needs to be changes.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Chris looked down at Mike. “Come on, kiddo.”

With a final wave goodbye to Amanda, Mike left with Chris for the truck. Chris pulled out and Mike watched as the clinic got farther and farther away from the rear-view mirror.

“Was it really okay?” Chris asked, genuinely curious. “We have other therapists available if she wasn’t the one.”

“She was nice,” Mike admitted.

Amanda was very interesting as well. They had played 20 Questions over and over, none of the questions too invasive or mean. Favorite color? Amanda’s was blue and Mike couldn’t pick one, but blue was close. Favorite animal? Amanda’s were tarantulas, she even had two, and Mike’s were based off the animatronics. The seaside or a forest? Amanda wanted to live by the seaside, Mike liked the forest. There had been simple and even fun questions that had Mike eager to answer and ask at times, like about her tattoos. Amanda had been happy to tell him that her sleeves, as they were called, were delphinium flowers. She had told him that she had a single forget-me-not behind both ears, and a bluebird mid-spine. She had countered and asked if Mike wanted a tattoo and where he would get it, and Mike had answered that he had no clue.

“Well, I know some good artists,” Amanda had said as she jotted something down. “If you ever think about getting a tattoo, just go to this shop. Just say I recommended you and they’ll give you a discount.”

Mike had the paper in his jacket pocket. He was thinking really hard about her question now.

But first… “Did you know that guy in the clinic?” he asked. “The one you told me to look away from?”

Chris sighed. “Yeah. That’s Dennis, an old night guard.”

Mike gaped. An old night guard? He knew that some had gotten away, but he hadn’t planned on meeting one. “Is that why he looked so…?”

“Feral?” Chris finished. “Yeah, most of them look like that after they quit. They’re either in mental hospitals or hermits. They only really talk to each other and therapists because there’s no one public they can talk to.”

That felt all too familiar. “How come you wanted me to look away?”

“Because Dennis…” Chris rubbed his eye. “Dennis isn’t…stable, okay? He’s really dangerous and we’re not even supposed to be near each other. It must have slipped the office’s mind with all the other guards they have to watch. Either Logan or I will call in to remind them.”

“Dangerous?” Mike echoed. He remembered seeing the look in Dennis’s eyes, how they were cold and calculating and simmering with anger, and that grin.

They were at a stoplight. “Shortly after he quit, he kept calling us; leaving threats and shit,” Chris said. “He tried to break into Logan’s house with a gun about two months later, then after he was put on watch he stabbed the officer watching him and tried to break into my apartment with a knife.”

The teen felt sick. “Why isn’t he in jail?”

“Some insanity plea he just barely took,” Chris answered. “He has a parole officer and has to go to therapy. I think he’s even got an ankle bracelet.”

Mike thumbed his sleeve. “Would he have hurt me?” he asked quietly.

The janitor looked at him, frowning. “The last message he left me before I changed my number was that he would find anything I loved and destroy it. If he found out I was looking after you, he absolutely would have hurt you. That’s why I didn’t want you to look at him, because I didn’t want to risk him freaking out and doing anything.”

Mike swallowed. “Oh.” Maybe it was a good thing he scared Dennis then.

A bout of silence. They were almost home.

“Do you have any tattoos?” the teen asked after a minute.

Chris raised a brow. “No,” he said. “Never found the time or a decent parlor. Why, do you want one or something?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. Amanda gave me the place she goes to.”

“Yeah, she’s got a lot of tattoos. Pretty well-made from what I can see.” He snorted. “You know, some people would be trying to have her head for having tattoos and being a therapist. Apparently a tattoo hinders your ability to do your job. You’ll hear a lot of people, especially old people, going on about how tattoos are unprofessional and shit.”

Mike’s face scrunched up, annoyed. “It’s just a tattoo.” What was so wrong with one?

Chris chuckled. “Yeah, but she’d be in so much trouble if she grew up where I was. It’s ‘unladylike’ to get a tattoo. You and I would be called punks if we had just one.” He paused. “You know what? Fuck it, let’s get a tattoo later.”

The teen gaped and sat up in his seat. “Wait, really?”

“Sure, why not? Pretty sure you need permission anyway since you’re a minor, so I’ll vouch.” Chris gave him a flat glance. “Just don’t expect me to get a ‘best friends forever’ tattoo or something.”

Mike thought for a minute. “…Are you going to get one on your butt?”

Chris didn’t look impressed. “Mike, that’s for people who get blackout drunk and people who make very bad decisions.”

“I’ve…”

“You’re not getting a butt tattoo.”

Like he wanted one. “Would Logan get a butt tattoo?”

A sigh. “He would. It wouldn’t surprise me if he already has one.”

“Have you asked?”

“Mike, just because I’ve known them for nearly four years doesn’t mean I’m at the point where I’m asking if my boss has a tattoo on his ass.”

“Can I ask?”

“Your funeral.”

They pulled alongside the curb and got out. When they got inside, Logan was coming out of the kitchen with a sandwich and Petunia was sitting on the armchair in the living room sipping some tea. Buddy rushed over to give Mike and Chris his slobbery greetings.

“Hey, sport!” Logan greeted cheerfully. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” Mike answered, petting Buddy’s head. “She was nice.”

“That’s great. Are you okay with seeing her again?” Logan asked.

Mike didn’t want to see her for the reasons he was supposed to be, but she wasn’t bad and Mike liked her. “Yeah,” he mumbled quietly. “She already has my next appointment scheduled.”

Logan ruffled his hair. “We’re very proud of you, Mike,” he said softly.

The teen felt comforted under the praise, even if it was only a little.

Mike and Chris ended up on the couch and Logan on one of the beanbag chairs next to Buddy. Some show was playing, one that Petunia watched while the girls were occupied outside. Chris sipped on a water bottle he had grabbed from the kitchen while Mike drank some grape juice. It wasn’t a kiddy drink. Mike preferred apple juice and there wasn’t any in the fridge.

“Logan, do you have a tattoo on your butt?” Mike asked suddenly.

Petunia choked on her tea, sputtering. Logan’s jaw dropped a little bit. It was a good thing the girls were outside playing in the yard. Chris snickered a little and set his water aside.

Logan then smirked and stood up. “I actually do!” he chirped. He turned around and grabbed the hem of his pants, wiggling them off. “Wanna see?”

The two screamed. Chris covered both his and Mike’s eyes, turning them both away from the other man. “Logan, what the fuck?!”

Petunia had cleaned her face off. She looked at Logan knowingly, smirking. “I was there when you got that,” she said. “You were drunk out of your mind.”

“See, what’d I tell you, kid?” Chris muttered. “Only for blackout drunks and people who make a lot of bad choices.”

Logan scoffed. “I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Darling, you got a tattoo on your ass,” Petunia said, sipping her tea.

“You didn’t stop me!”

“Because it was funny. You were face-down in the backseat of the car with an icepack on it. Then I wished I had stopped you after you were moaning how much it hurt for days afterwards. You were such a pansy.”

“Pansies are perfectly nice flowers and calling me one is the equivalent of calling me beautiful, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Chris turned back and took his hand away, then slapped it back over his eyes and hunched back over. “Jesus fucking Christ, you actually pulled your pants down?!”

“Hey, Mike’s the one who asked about it.” Logan stuck out his tongue. “It’s a lightning bolt, by the way,” he mumbled, pulling his pants and underwear back up.

“Yeah, I saw!” Chris lifted his hand just so to look at Mike. “No ass tattoos,” he said firmly.

Mike gave a jerky nod in agreement. “No ass tattoos.”

Petunia gasped, surprised at Mike’s profanity. “Mike!” She was surprised that the boy had cursed, not angry.

“I’ll show the tattoo again!” Logan threatened, grinning playfully and grabbing the hem of his pants again.

“Please don’t. Pretty sure he’d take being grounded for life over seeing your ass again.” Chris gave a low chuckle. “Taking after me more than you think,” he said to Mike.

That had Mike smiling brightly.

They heard high-pitched laughter. Everyone looked over to see Rosie and Caitlyn at the window, red-faced with laughter and the oldest holding her toy camera. “Daddy showed his butt, daddy showed his butt!” they both chanted.

Logan’s face turned bright red. “Girls!”

Petunia stood up and jogged to the sliding door. “Give me that camera right now!”

The two let out high squeals and ran back into the yard. Logan and Petunia ran after them, Logan pleading and Petunia snickering under her demands. Chris and Mike started laughing, watching as the four ran around the yard in practical circles and as the girls tossed the camera back and forth to each other. Buddy barked and ran out the door to join the game of chase.

Chris looked at Mike, still laughing. "No ass tattoos," he repeated.

Mike was giggling hysterically. "No ass tattoos."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan is a grown man, a father, and a husband but that doesn't stop him from being himself.
> 
> Again, thank you all for the understanding and patience regarding the situation and the chapter delay.
> 
> “I’m so sorry to hear that! Take as much time as you need 😞 losing a pet is like losing a family member- again, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I’ll be sending you good waves from where I’m at ❤️” - StereostypicalScorpio
> 
> “RIP Aspen. The pain of losing a beloved pet will never truly fade. At least she is no longer suffering. Take all the time that you need. I know what it’s like.” - Natalie Marotzek 
> 
> “I'm sorry for your loss. :( I also recently lost a dog. Best wishes to you and your family, please take your time and take care.” - lockhearttifa
> 
> “Who cut those onions?” - Vanitas
> 
> “I can't imagine how hard this must be. I never used to think it was a big deal when dogs died, because they're "just dogs", but since I've had one of my own, the prospect of losing him is too painful to even dwell on. I'm so sorry that you're having to go through this - take all the time you need to feel better, and know that, even though we're just random people on the internet, we're all rooting for you in this tough time <3” - vaetta
> 
> “I'm sure all of us don't mind you taking a break from fanfics, take as long as you need, it'll be okay eventually.” - Swirledstarz
> 
> “<3 take all the time you need, friendo. Your personal life and needs is much more important than a story <3” - Mazanica
> 
> “Awww, I'm so sorry for ur loss. 😭💔” - girafficpark1
> 
> “Take all the time you need, losing a pet is never easy. Remember to take care of yourself, eat and drink well. Best wishes to you and your family, I’m sure she was the happiest pup in the world with you by her side.” -Emily
> 
> “I'm so sorry about Aspen... I lost my dog recently, too. His name was Bebes, and I loved him to death, so I understand how painful this must be. Take all the time that you need, and just know that we're all here for you. 💖” - Cheerless
> 
> “Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that! Your puppy seemed like just the sweetest little thing! I know what's it liked to lose a loved pet, so all I have to say is - take your time! Take care of yourself! <3” - LynxB3
> 
> "I love you buddy <3" - Crimgy


	7. Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Goldie and the rest of the Crew to get a cleanup. Mike's armed with a very tall stool and lots of shampoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience and understanding. Burnout's been hitting me fairly hard along with some other things. I'm not giving up on the story (I've worked too hard on this to just give it up), but that I'm just a little tired with it. I'm fine, the story's fine, this kind of stuff just happens and I'll eventually get back on the ball entirely.
> 
> But yesterday I actually wrote a Fronnie fic for Rainb0we and Aloveri and tumblr and they both liKED IT AAAAA!!! I was literally so wiggly and happy that I couldn't focus on anything. And I just wrote another one for them! Both are up on Rainb0we's tumblr and my AO3. Please go check out their art because it's amazing and they're both very sweet peeps!
> 
> Not only that but we have more fanart! Pincaru37 and Mikespizzeria on tumblr drew Mike and AAAAAAAA!!!! And I have no clue if I mentioned this or not because I have the memory of a potato but Mangleshmidt also drew a little Freddy on her doodles a while back on tumblr and AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! My cheeks are so hot they could be stovetops, you all are so sweet and awesome! Thank you all for the support through thoughts, comments, fanarts, kudos: just anything at all! Y'all are too sweet, I'm gonna die of love at this rate ;U;
> 
> Anyway, full wholesome time with these dorks (and a pinch of angst, that damn Bite always lingers)

The cleanup crew had come in and resealed the wall almost immediately. It was due for some modern changes anyway. The company, of course, gave Logan some hell, saying that everything in the room was to be sealed away and never removed, but stopped short when he mentioned Goldie’s eviction and Mike’s eagerness to repair the suit. The spokesperson had put him on hold for a few minutes, then returned with a begrudging green light for repairing Goldie and a warning never to open that room again.

They said they would make a verdict on whether or not Goldie could perform, but at the moment it was a no. They didn’t give a reason why and neither did Goldie, but no one pushed.

Fixing Goldie was mostly cleaning him. It sounded much simpler on paper, because Goldie sheepishly admitted that there was a lot of cleaning to do. While Cassidy’s body had been removed, not much had been done to clean up an empty suit that wasn’t a part of the show.

Mike came in lugging a fabric bag of shampoo up to the brim and the stupid bat.

Logan had gotten soap as promised. Lots of a soap. And shampoo. Lots of shampoo. There were a bunch of different kinds, so they had the option of variety at least. It was going to be a grueling job with how long Goldie had been neglected and with all the parts Mike had to be careful of cutting his hands on, but it would be worth it.

“Hey, Mike,” Bonnie greeted. His eyes went to the bag. “What’s that?”

Mike grimaced. The bag was heavy. “Soap and shampoo.”

Bonnie moved over and peered into the bag. The rosy eye widened. “Oh, wow. That’s all for him, huh?”

Mike noted with a pang of disappointment that Bonnie didn’t use Goldie’s name. “No,” he said. “I’m cleaning you guys, too.”

Bonnie gaped at him. “What?”

The teen lifted the bag a little more and moved forward. “I’m cleaning you, too,” Mike repeated. “I thought that was obvious?”

Bonnie reached and took the bag. Mike let out a small puff of relief and went to get set the bat on the counter. “Well, no,” the rabbit responded, still shocked. He weighed the bag, ears perking at the feel of it. “Since we’re pretty clean and all, we thought you were just doing Goldie.”

“Pretty clean?” Mike raised a brow at him. “Bonnie, no offense, but you guys aren’t that clean. You all smell pretty bad.” Even though Mike had smelled Freddy’s usual scent when they hugged, it had been coated with something he didn’t want to think about. In fact, he could smell all of them. He hadn't said anything before in fear of upsetting them, but now...

The rosy eyes blinked. “Really?” Surely the staff hadn’t neglected them that bad.

“Have you noticed all the cans of air freshener in the closet?”

“…Oh.” Okay, apparently they smelled worse than they thought.

When they got into the main room, Freddy was standing there with Chica.

“We heard,” Freddy said. He looked surprised, but also sheepish. “We’ve tried to take care of ourselves over the years, but when the staff is terrified of even getting close to us, it's hard to stay clean for so long.”

“Which, you know, is our fault, but…” Chica shrugged. “The kids come first, they could’ve at least tried.”

Logan hadn’t forced anyone to get close to the animatronics during the day unless there was a big problem or something obvious stuck on them. Mike knew that they were pretty in shape mechanical wise, but cleanliness wise was another story. “Can someone get Goldie?” he asked.

The tension was still in the air, but everyone seemed to be on neutral ground with Goldie. Minus Foxy, of course. Still, Freddy was really the only one who talked to Goldie, and that wasn’t a lot. Mike was a disappointed at their behavior, but he couldn’t blame them. If he were in their place he’d be just as suspicious and on edge. Mike had given Goldie a chance because Scotty was a mediator, but the animatronics didn’t have that; things were still quiet between them and Scotty, and Mike was obviously going to pick Goldie’s side if a fight broke out.

Still, Freddy was careful about dragging Goldie from the backroom. It was the best place to put him, seeing as how the closet was Bonnie’s space and the kitchen was a big no. The office had been another choice, but Freddy liked his privacy as well. Goldie hadn’t minded, though he had been very adamant about being given a light source and for someone to talk to him once in a while. Being trapped in a dark room with only your thoughts as your company created some big insecurities.

Mike understood.

“Hey, totty!” Goldie greeted cheerfully as Freddy sat him against the stage. “How’s it going?”

There never seemed to be a dull moment with Goldie. Mike smiled. “Good,” he responded. “Ready to be cleaned?”

“Mike, that’s like asking a kid if they want ice cream.” The white dots in Goldie’s sockets, however, glowed brighter and his jaw shifted into a smile. “Hell yes.”

“Cool. So, where do you want me to start?”

“Uh, I don’t know? I haven’t been cleaned in a long time,” the suit said, chuckling nervously. “I mean, at least there isn’t an endoskeleton to clean.”

Mike managed to find some enthusiasm there. Still, he sighed. “I’ve got five animatronics to clean before we open.”

A pause. “Actually, I can be patient for a little longer, totty. They’re the ones that need to stay fresh for the kids,” Goldie told him. “Besides, maybe we can trick someone into going in the back so I can make a skeleton in the closet joke if you don’t get to me tonight.”

The teen frowned. “Are you sure? With how long you’ve been like this…”

Goldie would be waving his hand if he could. “Some anticipation never killed anyone.”

Despite the optimism, Mike could tell that it was hard for him to give that up. “I guess,” he said, conceding.

The three other animatronics glanced at each other. “Thank you, Goldie,” Freddy said after a moment.

The suit’s eyes darted to him for a minute, then down into his lap. “No problem,” he said quietly.

Mike was reminded once again how it felt to feel so small and helpless.

“I’ll get the stool,” Bonnie announced.

Freddy went first, mostly because Bonnie and Chica insisted. Mike knew why, what with the oldest animatronic always looking after them first before himself. Freddy had protested, though conceded when it became obvious no one else was going to bathe until he did.

Foxy, to Mike’s surprise and worry, didn’t come out of the Cove.

There was a shower stall in both bathrooms. It had been installed a while back, what with children susceptible to getting incredibly messy. Thankfully it was big enough for an animatronic to fit, though it was fairly tight. Freddy was the one that was going to have to turn and lean, so Mike didn’t complain. The stall door was able to shut, and Mike didn’t want to risk falling backwards and cracking his head on the floor.

“Okay, so…” Mike looked at Freddy up and down. Where was he even going to start?

Freddy had taken off his bow-tie and hat. It was so weird seeing him without his usual accessories. “I can’t reach my insides, but I can get everything else,” he said.

The bag of shampoo and soap was on the floor. Mike went over and grabbed a large brush from it. “What shampoo do you want?” he asked. “There’s vanilla lavender, seaside breeze, cinnamon surprise, chocolate tiramisu…”

“What’s tiramisu?” Freddy asked.

“Uh, I think it’s a kind of cake?” Mike tried to remember. He had heard of it, but hadn’t ever seen or had it. “Like, a coffee cake?”

Freddy’s eyes widened. “There’s coffee cakes?”

Mike suddenly remembered a weird habit Freddy had when he was little. Apparently Freddy would steal coffee beans from the tin just to chew them, then clean his mouth of the evidence. The others would sometimes find him hidden away in the office or backroom just chewing on them. He had always been attracted to the scent of it for some reason, almost obsessed from what he remembered.

“…Yeah?”

“That one, please.”

That habit was apparently still a thing from the looks of it.

When they got into the shower, Freddy was facing Mike and the stall was shut. Mike didn’t take off his shirt, still too afraid to show any skin. Freddy didn’t say anything, something the other was thankful for. Thankfully for him Petunia had stuffed a raincoat in the bottom of the bag, a bright blue one just his size. He didn’t know when it was bought, it looked and smelled brand new, but he swallowed the hardness in his throat and put it on.

“So how do I…?”

“I got it.”

Mike had never seen the animatronics dismantle themselves, so it was a surprise to see Freddy dig into his chest just slightly with his fingers and to hear a small _pop_. Almost his entire front came off. His endoskeleton was fairly clean, but Mike could see the mess staining the inside of the suit.

He could see Freddy’s soul.

It was bigger than Mike’s, stronger looking. It was fitted in Freddy’s upper chest, settled just away from the endoskeleton. A faint scar was on the front, but there were others on it. They looked old, just barely on the edge of fading entirely. Mike’s eyes were wide as the soul pulsed and Ink spread over the endoskeleton, reaching and covering various other electronics.

“What?” he simply blurted.

Freddy smiled, amused at Mike’s shock. “The soap might wash off the protective coating on our wires and it would take you forever to take us apart to scrub our suits, so this is much easier for all of us.”

Alright, so maybe Mike could get them all finished after all. He turned the handle and water poured from the shower-head.

The bear jumped and curved forward slightly. "Oh, goodness!" Freddy shivered. "That's freezing!"

Mike smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It'll get warmer, promise."

There was a lot of leftover…residue from the bodies, though it was hardened and crusted. There was also other things, though Mike had no clue how there was gum residue and a shoe jammed into a crevice, which Freddy voiced his immense relief when it was gone. Someone had apparently shoved it in there and Freddy hadn't said anything because he believed it was just a persistent cramp. There was a giggle from Freddy every once in a while whenever the brush Mike was using to scrub went over a spot. It made Mike smile, sometimes snicker along with him. The deep sound was almost contagious.

The water pattered against the hood of the raincoat. Freddy started humming at one point.

After a while the water finally stopped having a colored tint. The inside was done, though the Ink still shielded the endoskeleton and electronics. Mike peeked up from beneath the hood. Freddy head was slightly lifted and his eyes were closed in bliss. He was obviously enjoying the feel of the shower, and Mike knew he could feel that he was clean. If Mike went years of not being properly clean, which he had at times, and finally got washed, he knew he’d feel relieved.

“Okay, your inside’s done,” Mike said.

“Thank you so much, Michael. I feel much better,” Freddy said. His ears flapped a little under the water.

“You want help with your fur?”

“If you’d like. You don’t have to.”

Mike grabbed the shampoo bottle and dragged the stool towards him. “I got it.”

The teen stepped up on the stool. The seat was wide enough where he could stand with ease. Freddy looked at him up and down, then chuckled. The pale cheeks flushed. It wasn't his fault that Freddy was literally eight feet tall and he was barely average for someone his age. He still had no idea what the people who created the animatronics had been thinking, making the robots so massive.

“Lift up your head?”

The bear obeyed. Mike used one hand to steady himself, settling it on Freddy’s jaw, and the other with the brush to start scrubbing. The difference was already starting to show, a tint getting into the bubbles.

Freddy chuckled. “Michael, that tickles.”

Mike blinked. “Wait, really?”

“There wiring under our fur is fairly sensitive. I can feel it just as well as I could on the inside.”

The teen grinned. “Really?” _Interesting._

An icy eye looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t get any ideas,” he said lowly, but there was no fire behind his words.

After nearly twenty minutes of scrubbing, two shampoo bottles gone through, Freddy was finally completely clean. Drying was another story, and they both welcomed the hairdryer Petunia had put in the bag. Freddy was using it while Mike helped dry him off with a towel.

Bonnie and Chica were waiting outside. Foxy still wasn’t there.

Chica gasped, orchid eyes wide. “You’re like a big teddy bear!”

Freddy smiled brightly. He looked like one. His fur was fluffed out like a big star, his colors considerably lighter. Mike had also given a quick shine to his eyes and hat. “I feel like one.”

Chica turned to Bonnie and gave him a firm nudge forward. The rabbit squeaked. “You next!” she exclaimed.

“What? Why me?” Bonnie asked, confused. There had to be a catch to her excitement.

“Because I want to make fun of how fluffy you’re going to come out first.”

Bonnie crossed his arms and scowled. “I’m proud of my fluff, thanks.”

“Then go get your shower,” Chica told him, smirking.

The rabbit let out a grumble. “Why don’t you go get your shower?”

“Bonnie. Chica.” They both looked at Freddy. He looked almost bored watching them bicker. “Just decide.”

It was hard to take Freddy seriously when he looked like he had come right out of the dryer. The two bit back their laughter. “Sure,” Bonnie said tightly. “I’ll go.”

Mike turned on the water again. It was still warmed up from Freddy’s shower. Bonnie undid his bow-tie and hung it over the sink.

“What shampoo do you want?” Mike asked.

The rabbit peered into the bag. The rosy eyes then widened. “Ooh, I want the cinnamon surprise!” Bonnie exclaimed. He looked excited. “I _love_ cinnamon.”

“Really?” Mike raised a brow. “I didn’t know that.”

Something passed over the rose eyes, but it was gone before Mike could ask about it. “Yeah,” Bonnie said, a little softer. “You know about cinnamon buns? The little treats with cinnamon and frosting? Those are the _best_ and I would actually kill to have one right now.”

The teen wiggled the raincoat back on. “Does Chica make them?” He didn’t remember if she did.

“Well yeah, but don’t tell her I said this because she’ll kill me.” He looked back, like she’d come in any second. “But there used to be this really good bakery down the road that sells them. The boss at the time always tried to lighten to atmosphere and got them a lot, and they were the best things ever.”

There was a bakery down the road still. “Sweetest Treats?” Mike asked, his head tilted slightly.

Bonnie let out a quiet yelp. “Yeah, that’s it! Ooh, you have to try them, Mike, you can’t live your life without having their cinnamon rolls.”

He thought for a second. “If I got some for you, how many would you want?”

Bonnie gaped, his eyes shining brightly. “Uh, the whole store!” he exclaimed. “Mike, if you got me just one I would literally explode, do not joke with me on this.”

Mike smiled knowingly. “I’ll get you some. Promise.”

The rabbit let out a happy shriek and scooped the teen up in a hug, earning a yelp. “Oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you!” he squealed, hopping up and down.

Mike clung to the lilac fur tightly. “Bonnie, I’m gonna be sick!” he exclaimed. He was already getting dizzy.

Bonnie let out a small _eep_ and immediately stopped. “Sorry, Mike!” he apologized, frowning as he set the boy down. “I just got so excited.”

Mike steadied himself on his feet, his stomach still rolling. “It’s fine,” he said, smiling wistfully. “Please tell me you don’t chew on them like Freddy does with coffee beans.”

“I’m not that weird.”

Bonnie did the same thing with his endoskeleton and wires. Like Freddy’s soul, his was strong and pulsing gently. It wasn’t as scarred, but it wasn’t spotless either. The cover was set aside, the water pouring into it while Bonnie wiggled his ears under the spray.

Mike was a minute into scrubbing the inside before he recoiled. “Eww, is this gum?!” he yelled. “How did that get inside you?”

Bonnie blinked. “Oh my god, I think that’s the gum one of the old mechanics left inside me. I knew something was stuck!”

Mike grimaced. He made a note to ask for the guy’s name.

The inside was done quickly after the gum was out and in the trash. Mike got to work with the shampoo and soap, scrubbing the lilac and periwinkle fur. Bonnie just smiled all the while, enjoying the feel of the brush.

When Mike went around the ears, Bonnie squealed embarrassingly high. Mike actually jumped a little at the sound and the feel in his Lines. The rabbit devolved into hysterical giggles. “M-Mike, stop! That ti-ickles!”

Mike smirked and scrubbed a little harder. “Are you telling me you’re all ticklish?” he asked, plotting.

“Yes, yes, now stop!” Bonnie swatted at his hand, laughing. “Please!”

Mike relented. “Fine. But I’ll get back at you guys for tickling me so much when I was little. I still remember the one time I sounded like I was dying because you wouldn’t stop tickling me.”

The rabbit snickered. “It wasn’t that bad.”

The brush hovered over the spot again. “I have the power, Bonnie.”

Bonnie raised his hand. “Truce.”

After scrubbing and more threatening with the brush, Bonnie was finally clean. He was grinning widely, bouncing a little on his feet and his ears wiggling as he got out of the stall. Mike was smiling as well, the feeling too contagious to even try and ignore.

“This feels so awesome,” he said, giddy. “I haven’t felt this clean in years.”

As Mike grabbed the hairdryer again, the animatronic reached and picked him up. The teen let out a small squeak.

Bonnie gave Mike a little toss up and giggled. “You’re still so tiny,” he said, smiling brightly. “You’re fun-sized.”

Mike’s cheeks bloomed out into bright red. “I’m not that small,” he mumbled, ducking his head.

“Mike, it’s not bad to be small,” Bonnie said, sensing the embarrassment. “You’d still be just as adorable at Chris’s height.”

His cheeks were bright pink. “I guess.”

Chica actually started squealing at the sight of Bonnie. “You’re so fluffy!” she shrieked.

The rabbit let out a sheepish chuckle, scratching his arm absently. “Yeah, I almost forgot I used to be like this all the time.”

Freddy snickered. “You look just like a little bunny.” He winked. “A fluffy bunny.”

Bonnie groaned. “Freddy, seriously? I’m not a baby anymore, you know.”

Mike raised a brow. “What?” He didn’t get the joke.

“Fluffy is Freddy’s nickname for Bonnie,” Chica supplied helpfully. “He used to call Bonnie that all the time.”

Mike faintly remembered hearing it, but he had completely forgotten otherwise. “Did you have a nickname?” he asked her.

“Muffin,” Freddy replied instantly. Chica seemed to be the one grimacing now, looking away from Mike. “Foxy’s is sunshine.”

“He’s a ray of it,” the chicken mumbled.

Freddy ignored her jab. “And I called you pumpkin all the time,” he finished.

Mike’s cheeks lit up. “Oh.” 

He remembered that, Freddy lifting him up and calling him pumpkin, tickling his belly and peppering his face with kisses. It was the other thing Freddy called him aside from his full name. Mike never really knew why it was pumpkin, the answer was probably somewhere in the back of his head, but it was an endearing name that was used a lot.

“I remember.”

Freddy’s eyes become slightly grey, his smile wavering. Chica huffed and moved towards the bathroom. “Careful, he’ll start going on about how he misses us being little babies and a bunch of stuff we used to do.”

In the bathroom, Mike didn’t comment about how they were in the men’s bathroom, Chica took off her bib and stepped into the shower stall. Mike moved in after her, faintly hearing Freddy chattering about something to Bonnie outside. Apparently he hadn’t prevented that reminiscing from happening.

Mike found himself looking at Chica quietly, his cheeks glowing faintly. “Uh…”

Chica rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered. “I’ll handle myself, but I do want some help with my insides.”

After cleaning Chica out and putting her front back on, Mike got up on the stool with the shampoo and dabbed some on the tuft of hair on her head. He started working it into the feathers.

“Ooh, that smells so good!” Chica chirped. She glanced back at him. “You know, I’ve noticed you smell a lot like a pine tree.”

Mike raised a brow. “How do you…?”

“Freddy used to sneak us to the park sometimes when we were younger. We don’t really do it anymore, but I remember what a pine tree smells like.”

“Huh.” That…made a lot of sense actually. It would have driven Mike crazy if his entire life was spent in one building. “It’s Chris’s shampoo,” he said.

“That’s what I was thinking,” she said. “So are you living with him?”

“Oh, uh, technically no. I mean, I stay at his place and Logan’s, but I still have my apartment.”

“Why don’t you just move in with him or Logan?”

Move in? Officially move in. Mike bit his lip. “I mean…”

“Mikey, it’s obvious that they love you a lot. When was the last time you even went to your apartment?” she asked.

Mike thought back. “Almost three weeks,” he answered, eyes widening. It had been a while. He had paid his rent beforehand, but he just hoped the landlord hadn’t gone in and thrown out his stuff. If the pictures were gone…

“Then just move in,” Chica said, shrugging. “Besides, that place is an absolute death trap. We don’t want you getting sick from anything in there or falling through the floor.”

“It’s not that bad,” Mike said softly, mind elsewhere. He had told them about the place and had gotten the same response: he needed to be somewhere safer.

Should he ask Chris or Logan to move in? Who would he ask? Would the one he wouldn’t have asked be upset that he made a choice like that? What about Miss Lady? Would she be upset? Maybe he could help her swap couches since she liked the one in his apartment. What about the pictures? Where would he put them when he moved out that was safe from any possible harm? Would they ask to see them?

“Mikey?” Chica called. Mike startled. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

Mike sighed. “Yeah, just thinking.” He went back to scrubbing her back. “I’ll think about it.”

“As long as you say yes, that’s good enough for me.”

Soon Chica was done, her feathers dried and fluffy. She looked like a little chick, smiling brightly and having some swagger in her step. Her feathers were truly sunflower yellow now, bright and scented like them

Foxy had finally showed his face. He looked upset, frowning tightly and nibbling his lip. Freddy was talking to him, his expression soft and voice gentle. They stood by the Cove, their conversation quiet. Bonnie was outside the bathroom, waiting.

“I feel lighter than a feather!” Chica proclaimed. “There was so much gunk under my feathers.”

Bonnie looked at her, smiling. “Nice. Hey, now that you’re done, can you help us convince Foxy he’s getting cleaned?”

Mike raised a brow. “Doesn’t he want to?”

Bonnie frowned. “He, uh, didn’t know you were going to be cleaning him?”

What? The blue eyes slid to the pirate. “Foxy? Are you ready?”

Foxy jolted from his sulking. “Fer what?” he blurted.

“Uh, to be washed?” Mike’s face scrunched a bit. “Don’t you want to be cleaned?”

“Uh…” Foxy scratched at his arm. “I didn’ think ye were washin’ me.”

Mike recoiled slightly at the statement. So Bonnie hadn’t been joking even a little. “Of course I’m going to wash you! Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m not…”

“Oh, you need to be cleaned anyways!” Chica cut in. “Mike needs you clean before he can start fixing your suit and all.”

The sunny eyes widened. He looked at Mike. “Ye’re goin’ ta…fix me?” The questioned was filled with so much hope and confusion that it hurt.

Mike frowned a little. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I thought with Goldie and all…”

Foxy looked at Freddy uncertainly, but sighed when the bear smiled. “Okay,” he said.

Foxy was the tallest, and it would be a stretch even with the stool. The eye-patch came off, but the hook was another story.

“I don’ want ta risk nickin’ ye,” Foxy said. “I’ll take it off.”

Mike was already planning to clean it anyway. It needed shined in his opinion. “I got it,” he said, reaching and taking ahold of the end. He didn’t catch Foxy stiffening. It didn’t turn. Mike gritted his teeth. “It’s rusted shut,” he got out. He kept trying. “Oil?”

A Line from Foxy’s shoulder reached for the bottle. He hovered it over his wrist and squeezed a few drops down below the metal. After some wriggling, Mike finally got the hook to turn.

“Ugh,” Mike couldn’t help but say when it popped off. It was pretty gross on the inside and out. “I thought you guys took care of each other with rust.”

Foxy looked away. “I never liked anyone touchin’ anythin’ dangerous,” he admitted.

Oh.

The fox looked down at himself. “Freddy’s made sure I’m not wastin’ away entirely, but ye know…”

Mike did.

The front came off, Mike going to work on the insides. A lot of water and soap leaked out from the tears in Foxy’s fur. The soul fluttered on above him. He noticed that it seemed almost…stronger than everyone else’s. Its pulses were deeper, the scarring was more faded. Maybe there was a reason why Foxy’s Lines moved faster.

When Mike got on the stool, he noticed something. There was still blood in Foxy’s mouth. Mike could see it clinging to some teeth, staining Foxy’s faux tongue and the insides of his jaw. Whoever had cleaned him after the Bite had probably been too scared to keep their hand inside of the jaws of the machine that had just bit a child however long beforehand.

Foxy pulled away. Mike hadn’t even realized he had reached out to touch the fox’s jaw. He looked dazed. “I can clean that,” he said, his voice strained.

Mike knew he wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t want to do it either, the sight of his own blood making him incredibly uncomfortable, but it was for the best; for both of them. “I got it,” he said softly. “Besides, I can see it all. You’d need a really good mirror.”

The fox shook his head. “Mikey, no, I…” He let out a wheezy sound and shivered. “Just…leave it.”

A panic attack. Foxy was having a panic attack. Mike stared, eyes wide, and then carefully settled a hand on Foxy’s arm. The other stiffened, but didn’t pull away. Guilt shot throughout the teen’s chest, but after a moment he realized it wasn’t his own. He could feel _Foxy’s_ guilt alongside his own, the fox’s feeling just as heavy and upsetting. They were both guilty about the Bite, even if neither really said why.

A few minutes passed. The shaking subsided eventually, as did the occasional wheeze.

Mike swallowed. “Are…you okay?”

Foxy took another moment before saying, “Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m fine.”

The teen took in a breath. “I trust you,” he said steadily. “I know you’re not going to hurt me and I know nothing’s going to happen.”

The yellow eyes stared at him, practically blank. There was silence between them. Neither said anything. Mike didn’t push, Foxy didn’t speak. Then Foxy slowly opened his mouth, his stained teeth sticking out with him so close. Mike wished his heart didn’t skip at the sight of it. If Foxy sensed it through his Lines, he said nothing.

Mike wasted no time in getting to work.

After a lot of firm, but gentle, scrubbing, Mike finally withdrew his hands from Foxy’s mouth. The fox was shaking faintly, the sunny eyes dim and distant.

“Hey,” Mike called gently.

Foxy blinked, coming back to himself. “Is it gone?”

Mike nodded. “It’s gone. All of it.”

The fox let out a shuddery breath, his slumped body giving a faint quiver. “Okay,” he whispered.

Despite the distress, it felt like a small weight had been lifted off of them both now that the blood was gone.

Mike finally got up on the stool and got to work.

Foxy was chuckling quietly within minutes. Mike couldn’t help but giggle at the sound. He was ticklish under his chin and around his neck, though the area around his ears just made him purr. The boy noted that for another day, smiling faintly at the thought of Foxy curled up and purring like a cat.

“What’s this smell?” Foxy asked after a beat.

“It’s called seaside breeze,” Mike said. He frowned. “I’ve never been to the ocean, so I don’t know if it’s accurate.”

“It smells nice,” the fox said.

Mike paused for a minute. “…Maybe we’ll go one day,” he murmured.

Foxy’s ears perked. “Pardon?”

“We should go to the beach sometime,” Mike said, a little more confident. “After Goldie’s fixed and Chris gets more comfortable with you, we should all go to the beach.”

Foxy let out a slightly hysteric laugh. “Mikey, I don’ think that’s possible.” They’ve been outside, the farthest they've been is the park, so how the hell were they going to be smuggled to a beach? There’s no way Chris’s truck was going to fit more than one of them, barely that, so how would they get there?

“We’ll figure it out,” the teen said, smiling. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. They’d all go to the beach once everyone was more comfortable with each other. “You’re a pirate, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Foxy blinked at the confidence in Mike’s voice; and his own words being thrown back at him. He used to say that all the time. He let out a huffy chuckle. “Alright, I’m in. Good luck gettin’ us across the parkin’ lot without bein’ seen.”

Mike washed out the shampoo. “We’ll throw sheets over all of you. You’ll all look like giant ghosts. We’ll give the people the answer that the pizzeria’s haunted.”  
Foxy let out a low chuckle. “Haunted by ghosts over seven feet tall and screamin’ like idiots.”

“Who says I won’t be in costume?”

“One of us’ll hold ye above our head and fly ye around with or without a costume.”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh.

When they finally came out of the bathroom later, everyone, minus Goldie, was standing outside.

“Look at you!” Chica crowed, drawing out the words. “I haven’t seen you this fluffy since you came out of the box! You look so cute!”

Foxy would be blushing if he could. His ears folded down, his eyes pointed at the floor. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he muttered.

Bonnie went over and settled a hand in the ruby fur. He gasped. “You’re so soft!” he exclaimed. His nose twitched. “And you smell really good! You’re basically brand new.”

“Not yet he isn’t,” Freddy said, smiling widely. “But once those tears are sewn up, he’ll certainly be that. Nearly there.”

Foxy looked down at Mike. He looked so…open. Less gruff and more friendly now that his fur was cleaned. “Thank ye, Mikey,” he said quietly.

Mike smiled warmly up at him. “No problem, captain.”

“…Still a loyal first mate,” Foxy chuckled, nostalgia painting his eyes. He ruffled the dark locks of hair.

The boy’s smile grew wide and open.

“I’ll get Goldie,” Freddy said, turning towards where the suit was sitting. “Michael’s ready for you.”

Goldie said nothing, probably out of nervousness from Freddy, but Mike knew the other was grateful.

Freddy was strangely careful in putting Goldie in the shower stall. Mike had already shrugged the raincoat back on and grabbed one of the unused shampoo bottles. There was still some soap left, but not much.

“Thanks,” Goldie said quietly. He wasn’t looking at Freddy, but it was obvious at who it was directed to.

Freddy looked at Mike. “Are you sure you can handle him alone? With how long he’s been untreated…”

“I’ll be fine. Plus I just cleaned you.” Mike gave a shrug.

“If you’re sure. Call me in when you’re done so we can take him back.” Freddy looked at Goldie, then walked out.

Goldie sighed once the footsteps faded. “He’s the only one that’s actually making and effort and even he doesn’t want to be around me.”

Mike frowned. He knew how much that hurt, for someone to show him attention just because it was needed. “They’ll all come around,” he said softly. “You’ll see. They just need some time.”

“I really hope so, totty,” the butterscotch bear murmured.

The teen crouched down in the shower stall. He took off the top-hat and undid the messy bow-tie. “These look like Freddy’s,” Mike mumbled, looking at the hat. It was slightly lighter like it had been sun-bleached.

Goldie suddenly looked sheepish. “They, uh, are his,” he murmured. “My accessories were… Yeah.”

Mike didn’t push. He just set them aside. “We’ll find you something new,” he said. “It can’t be that hard to paint a hat and find a new ribbon for your tie.”

The white dots seemed to grow. “You’d do that?”

“Sure. What color do you want?”

“…Green,” Goldie said quietly. The white dots were slightly faded. “Lime green.”

Mike raised a brow, but at Goldie’s avoidance of his eyes, he just shrugged. “Okay.” He reached and dug his fingers into the dirty fur, finding the edge of the front. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

He got it off.

It was a lot grosser than Mike would have liked to imagine.

-

After nearly two hours, Goldie was finally clean.

There was a lot of grime, dust, and dried residue, but it was nothing some hard scrubbing couldn’t fix. Sure there was no soap left and there was one more bottle of Goldie’s shampoo, but he was clean. Mike had used his powers to help drag Goldie out of the shower, gritting his teeth all the while to get the suit onto the towel, and his arm was sore from moving the hairdryer everywhere, but Goldie was clean.

Mike shut off the hairdryer. “There,” he said, a relieved sigh slipping out.

Goldie’s butterscotch fur was bright and fluffy again. His insides were practically spotless – some bleach would need to be used to get rid of the few remaining ones – and his teeth were shiny white again. There had been some residue on them, dried and crusted like old blood, but Mike passed it off as being from the Massacre.

Goldie smiled brilliantly, his eyes glowing brightly. “Thank you so much, tater tot. I feel fantastic.”

Mike smiled. “No problem, Goldie.” His back was hurting, his arms were sore, and some water had slipped past the coat and into his clothes, but it was worth it.

The bear looked over him. “You should probably shower. You’ve got oil and rust all over you,” Goldie said.

Mike looked down at himself. That was true, and now it was all he could smell. Some had definitely gotten past the raincoat. It was…gross. “Yeah.” He stood up. His back popped. “Hopefully there’s still some shampoo left…and some soap in the closet.”

Goldie chuckled. “Yeah, hopefully. I’d be amazed if you found even a drop.”

“Chris won’t let me get in the truck if I smell like rusted garbage, he specifically told me.”

“I smelled pretty good for rusted garbage.”

“…I wouldn’t say that.”

“Okay, maybe I smelled a little worse than that.”

Mike raised a brow. _Maybe is a nice way of putting it._ He looked at the bathroom doorway. “Hey, we’re done!” he shouted.

Freddy came in right away. Foxy did as well, to Mike’s surprise. He had really thought the pirate had gone back to the Cove.

The two stared. “He looks brand new,” Freddy said.

“I feel like it thanks to totty here!” Goldie chirped. He seemed much bolder now that he wasn’t covered in dirt and grime. “He’s pretty determined in the hard spots.”

Foxy let out a single chuckle, low and barely noticeable, but Mike noticed.

“I’m going to shower,” Mike said. “Is there any soap in the closet? I kind of used it all on him.”

Freddy nodded. “We’ll get it for you.” He looked down at Goldie. “Good?”

The other bear startled. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, you can start dragging me.”

Foxy didn’t say anything, though he glanced at Mike with an unsure shine in his eyes, before helping Freddy carry Goldie out. The suit was sandwiched between Freddy and Foxy, the white eyes looking at his feet as they brushed along the fur.

 _No one ripped each other apart. Awesome._ Mike grabbed the caramel apple scented shampoo, the only one in the bag – Petunia must have put it in on accident –, and went to shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff capacity: Maximum
> 
> I'll get back on the ball, y'all, I promise. Thank you all so much for everything. There may be some edits on this in the future, so be aware for any tweaks.


	8. The Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scotty finally confronts the Crew about his death and learns the baffling truth that he was never meant to die. Not only that, but the animatronics don't remember killing him whatsoever. They remember only one thing, and Scotty begins to believe that his death wasn't an accident in someone else's book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE MORE FANART!!!
> 
> Princearu37 made a lot of fanart (I got whiplash from that rapid fire) They drew our three main human boys for one post, a little gif with Mike and the animatronics (it's wicked cool!), a chibi!Mike, and an insight on little Mikey's "family" life with his "parents" (my feels)! Mangleschmidt drew two portraits of my Mike and him as a little boy playing with her "Mike" (hard wink) Go check them out on their tumblrs and mine! And also check out Mangleschmidt's Ask-the-fox-guard AU because it's super interesting and cool and that's where her boy is from (you'll also understand the picture better so you have every reason to check it out anyway)
> 
> Everyone of yinz is going to kill me with how incredibly supportive you are of me and with all your artistic skills, I'm bleeding love every second.
> 
> And plot? Actual plot?? The family fluff is nowhere to be found in this chapter??? I can't believe myself sometimes.
> 
>  
> 
> **!!! Warning: graphic depictions of violence, gore, character death (Scotty)!!!**

_“I told you!”_

_Michael._

_“None of you listened to me! None of you!”_

_My child._

_“You didn’t even try talk to him! None of you tried!”_

_My baby._

_“And I… I-I didn't... I didn’t either.” A sob. “Mikey.”_

_My little pumpkin._

_Bonnie was running down the hallway. The closet door could be heard slamming shut. Loud whimpers slithered beneath the Cove’s curtains, along with chants of Michael’s name. Chica was leaning against the wall, curled up in a ball and sobbing into her arms._

_Freddy was just blank where he stood._

_He had wrapped his hands around a child’s throat._ His _child’s throat. He had been more than ready to break the fragile neck of a little boy, to snuff the soul out like a candle. Everything suddenly made sense now. The haze of anger and denial was gone, replaced with stinging clarity. The soft voice, the almost identical face, the big and sad eyes. Michael was alive. Freddy didn’t know how, but the boy had survived the Bite and had been alive all this time._

_And they had been trying to kill him._

_My_ baby. __

_He was too sickened with himself to cry._

“Freddy?”

Freddy jolted from his daze. The world came back to him, forming as the security office. He looked over, eyes flickering, to see Scotty standing by the table, frowning. The man was nearly transparent, splotches of color lighting up his otherwise transparent body.

That guilt would never leave him. Freddy cleared his throat. “Mr. Cawthorn,” he said. “Hello.”

“Scotty’s fine,” the spirit said. The formality had come as a surprise. He shifted. “I was, uh, wondering if we could talk.”

“Of course.”

“You, uh, probably already know what I’m wondering.”

“I… No, actually. I don’t know what you’re wondering.”

“…Excuse me?”

Freddy blinked. Scotty’s voice had become heated, angry. “Scotty, usually I’m good at picking things up, but I truly don’t know what you’re wanting to ask me about.”

“My death!” the spirit exploded. His form seemed to spike for a moment like a porcupine. “You k-k-killing me!”

“…We killed you?”

Wait. Scotty gaped at him. “Huh?”

“We thought you quit,” Freddy said. He looked so confused. “But we did kill you?”

The spirit was stunned. “W-wait, are you telling me you don’t remember killing me?”

“I…” Freddy rubbed his head, his circuits aching faintly. “No. I don’t remember anything like that.”

This had to be a joke, it had to be. Scotty was shivering faintly at the memories of his own screams and cries echoing in his head, how he had begged for his life and how his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. “B-but that hallucination in the backroom! W-when Mike was on shift!” That was Scotty. It had been exactly how he had died, he knew that.

“That was just a previous guard I thought of,” Freddy told him. Then he thought. “At least, I think it was. It was you I conjured up?”

“You’re joking.”

The bear looked almost offended. “Scotty, I would never joke about this. I truly don’t remember us stuffing you.”

This… This wasn’t what Scotty was expecting. Here he was finally confronting one of his murderers, and Freddy’s claiming he doesn’t even remember? It was infuriating to hear that they didn’t even _remember_ what they did to him.

…And incredibly concerning.

Freddy honestly looked baffled, a hand absently rubbing his head. He wasn’t joking or lying, he really was telling the truth. Scotty tried to think. Freddy was from 1972, he had looked after three other animatronics that were once mentally children; it wasn’t farfetched for him to truly forget. Scotty knew what the stress of being a parent could do.

The thought of his kids made his image shudder. “What about the others?” Scotty asked. Surely one of them had to remember.

“Yeah,” Freddy murmured softly. He looked so lost. It didn't look right on his face.

The main room was crowded within minutes. Everyone came from their spaces, confused at Freddy’s call for a meeting. Scotty felt Goldie’s soul humming quietly, the suit asleep.

“What’s goin’ on?” Foxy asked. He looked around. “Where’s Mikey?”

Scotty knew that Foxy cared about the boy. It wasn’t right of him, but sometimes he’d slither into the Cove to see what Foxy did. The fox was either held up in the broken belly of the old pirate ship or lying on the floor. He always looked miserable even when he slept. Scotty knew that he was scared of hurting Mike, how he was scared of doing anything that could upset the teenager and held himself in the Cove to prevent any of that happening, but he just wished that Foxy would attempt to take a step without taking one back.

“Michael isn’t here yet. Scotty wanted to talk to us,” Freddy said. He took in a faux breath. “Does anybody remember stuffing Scotty?”

Everyone blinked. “Uh, no,” Foxy said blandly. “Why is that somethin’ he’d want ta ask? We didn’ stuff him.”

Chica and Bonnie shook their heads.

They didn’t remember. None of them remembered killing him. Holy stars, this was insane.

"Apparently we did," the bear said. "I thought it was just my memory, but..."

“Wait,” Chica said. “I do remember something the night you were supposed to come in; hearing a ringing sound.”

Scotty raised a brow. “Ringing?”

“Now that you mention it, I remember that, too,” Freddy added.

“It was so annoying,” Bonnie groaned. He could almost feel it again. “It was so high. It wouldn’t stop.”

“Felt like my system was shortin’ out,” Foxy grunted. “I just remember how fuckin’ ear-splittin’ it was.”

“Same here. It was awful,” Chica added.

“So you all heard a high-pitched noise?” Scotty questioned. “And you all, uh, blacked out?”

The four nodded and gave murmured confirmations. The gears were turning in their heads now that they thought about it. They had been unconscious for nearly two days, the mechanic too terrified to properly check them. Scotty’s body had been removed and the suit had been cleaned by the time they woke up, so seeing him gone from the office had made them believe that he had finally quit.

Something struck him. “I had a bad headache that night,” Scotty murmured. “And I kept hearing some ringing, too.”

Everyone stared. “Wait, ye’re tellin’ us that we all heard the same sound?” Foxy asked. “But how?”

Freddy stared at Scotty, the white pupil’s small. “Scotty, what do you remember that night?” he asked.

“Everything.”

_Scotty wasted no time in recording his message. His last message, he knew. He tried to be optimistic, that he could survive until the morning and that he’d be fine, but he knew it wasn’t true. A guy his size and weight was no match for a body vice, and morning was three hours away. He’d never make it. He left any mention of his family out, not wanting anyone to hunt them down for answers and reveal what really happened at night._

_His kids, dear god, his kids. His family. He’d never see Holly again, his beautiful mistletoe. Damien, Tony, Jenna; he’d never see them again. Holly had gone out with friends, Damien had gone over to a sleep over, Tony was playing video games with a friend upstairs, and Jenna had been fighting with him about him always being tired from his shift, how he was always gone during the day, and that he was embarrassing her by working at the haunted pizzeria._

_He never slept without heavy sleeping pills anymore. He was always at therapy. The money was enough for him to get them out of the hole and save up for their college funds, to get Tony’s prosthetic leg and pay for his physical therapy, to get Damien a new hearing aid, to pay for the equipment his kids needs for their sports and school events._

_**“I wish you would just disappear! You’re never here anyway!”** _

_She had just been upset that her father was never home. It had stung Scotty, made him weep in the car on his way to his therapy appointment, but he understood. Jenna was setting records on the cross country team, captain of the basketball team, working her way up to first chair with her flute. Scotty was missing so many things, and that was just her. Damien was captain of the football team and was receiving scholarships left and right. Tony had the best grades in his class and his own club at school, where he would hobble around the neighborhood doing good deeds and melt the hearts of everyone he met._

_Then Holly’s promotion party. He’d missed that, too. She said it wasn’t much, just a little party, but Scotty knew she was lying. From where she was and how hard she worked, a promotion to assistant manager was a big deal._

_They said they understood, that they knew the job was tiring, but he always saw disappointment in their eyes. Scotty wanted nothing more than to quit, to find a normal job and finally spend time with his kids again, but the night-shift brought in the money they needed. If he quit, he risked losing the main vein of funding. Not only that, but the next poor sap wouldn’t last long. Scotty was lucky, the luckiest of all the guards, and he had lasted a long time._

_But tonight was the end._

_Usually the animatronics were docile in their own ways, off doing their own things with an occasional crack at him, but tonight… Tonight they were vicious. They were like animals, ones starved of food for weeks that had just found their meal. They all were here, boxing him in and clawing at the doors._

_Freddy got to him first. Scotty had tried to run, but Foxy had lunged. It was a hit, the hook slashing across his stomach and the beast snarling, and Freddy grabbed the man’s arm with a grip so tight that Scotty knew his arm was fractured._

_“No!” Scotty screamed, yanking at the vice grip on his arm as he was dragged down the hall. “S-s-stop, please!”_

_A sharp pull had Scotty falling forwards. He tried to stop it, digging his heels into the floor, but Freddy just kept walking. The others were following, still growling and twitching. Their eyes kept flickering between black and normal, but all that there was in them was blind rage. It was like they were possessed. Maybe they were. Maybe the souls of the dead children murdered in '87 had taken control and were getting what they believed to be revenge._

_The stuffing was horrible, more horrible than anything he could have imagined. His bones cracked, the gash on his stomach pushed out his organs. All he could do was scream and twitch, his dwindling voice pleading for mercy and for his family._

_The animatronics ignored him. They moved mechanically, lifelessly, like normal robots did. They were usually so fluid._

_Scotty coughed. His throat was pierced by metal. “Please,” he rasped, blood dribbling down his lips._

_A shadow came over his head. The last part._

_"Holly-!"_

_The head came down. There was pressure, his rasping screams, a pop, and then nothing._

Silence.

“…We’re so sorry, Scotty,” Freddy murmured. Their eyes were dark grey, most of them looking at the floor and their postures drooped. “We… We didn’t know.”

Scotty swallowed. “I remember it all,” he said tightly. “And you remember nothing.”

“We never intended to kill you,” Bonnie said after a moment. “You hadn’t done anything wrong.”

“We met your family, saw how much they loved you,” Chica added softly. “Tony always talked about you when he was here.”

Scotty’s eyes glassed over. “Have… H-have they been here since?” He had been hiding away in the safe room with Goldie.

“Jenna was,” the chicken answered. “A few days afterwards. She kept asking where you went and Logan didn’t say. We thought you had just run into trouble on your way home.” The orchid eyes dulled to a darker grey. “Now that we know, her saying that it was her fault makes a lot of sense.”

_The blonde child of the previous guard, the teenage girl. Usually she was here with friends, eating pizza and ignoring her father. Now she was screaming at the manager, her soft brown eyes rimmed with red and her acne-dotted cheeks wet. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, her long hair everywhere and her clothes rumpled._

_“Where’s my dad?!” she screeched. “Where’s my daddy?!”_

_The manager’s eyes were sad, desolate. “I don’t know, Jenna,” he answered softly._

_They didn’t know either. They hadn’t seen him in days._

_She broke down into tears, high and wailing sobs. The manager just put an arm around her and pulled her close._

_"It's my fault!" she wailed. "It's my fault!"_

_The poor girl._

Scotty’s heart clenched. His little girl, his little kitten, was blaming herself for his death. It wasn’t her fault, it had just been a horrible coincidence. She was just a girl, just a kid, she didn’t need that weight on her shoulders. No one in his family did.

“Do ye think that sound made us go crazy?” Foxy asked quietly. He wasn’t even fidgeting.

“It has to be,” Freddy answered. “We’ve never acted like that before. It can’t just be a coincidence that the sound appeared the night we blacked out and Scotty was killed.”

_“You should move on, Mr. Cawthorn. This job isn’t suitable for a man your age. The pay will keep coming so long as you keep quiet.”_

_“B-but it’ll be less.”_

_“It’s still substantial. Think about it.”_

_“I will. Thank you.”_

_“Oh, and one more thing. I was instructed to give this to you.”_

“Scotty?” Chica called.

“I-I just… I just remembered something.” Scotty’s jaw was dropped, his ashy eyes wide. “I met with a company representative a few hours before my shift for lunch. He was asking a bunch of questions, like why I was still there and that I should find a job fit for my age.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Did the Company hire a hit on you?” Scotty looked at him in disbelief. “I know the term,” the rabbit mumbled.

“A hit involving a high-pitched ringing sound?”

Freddy’s face suddenly hardened. “Scotty, think. Were you given anything by him?”

_…size of a quarter. It looked like one…_

“Something the size of a quarter,” Scotty answered, the wheels slowly turning. “It… Now that I think about it, it had a red light on it. The guy said it was a test key for doors they wanted to install, like a motion sensor.”

“I think it’s safe to say that’s what was making the noise.” The icy eyes were curious, but dark. “And a representative from the Company gave it to you?”

“Y-yeah, but…”

A hit? On him? And with something like that? What even was that thing? Why did it make the animatronics go crazy? Who created it? Why? Why him of all people, who was just trying to make a living and provide for his family? It didn’t make any sense.

Someone from the Company had wanted him dead. Scotty didn’t know why, but he was dead.

And there was a new guard in place.

_They want the cycle to continue._

Scotty voiced his theory. Someone was taking advantage of the animatronics. Whether or not whoever knew the truth, they wanted Scotty dead for no reason other than to put another guard in his place. Someone was getting something from dead guards, but what? And why? What could anyone be getting from dead people?

“What do we do?” Bonnie asked after a moment. The rose eyes were colored with worry. “If this is true and they realize that we’re not going after Mike anymore…”

“They’ll try and slip another one,” Foxy finished. His eyes were nearly black now. “They’ll try and make us hurt Mikey.”

“We’ll tell him when he gets here,” Freddy said. “And if we see anyone suspicious or leaving any of these things around, we find and destroy them before they can make the sound.” He looked at Scotty. “Do you remember what they look like? You said they had a blinking red light.”

Scotty could remember exactly how it felt under his fingers. “It looked like a smooth quarter. Dark grey.”

“So we break them?” Chica asked, raising a brow. “How are we going to find out more if they’re broken to pieces?”

“We’ll figure it out. I’d rather them destroyed than possibly making us go crazy again,” Freddy told her.

Scotty agreed. They didn’t need to know how it worked, they just needed it destroyed.

“Scotty.” The spirit looked up at Freddy. The bear’s face was firm, though his eyes were sad. “If we could take back what we’ve done to you and other innocent guards, we would.” Freddy’s voice was light and open. “We would change everything.”

“…I know you would.”

Freddy held out his hand. The spirit recoiled slightly. “Truce?”

Scotty managed a small smile. He took it, their hands giving a small shake in sync. “Truce.”

They were capable of redemption. He wasn't going to forgive them yet, not when there was so much to process. It didn’t change what happened to him or anyone else, but if they were showing guilt and wanting to change, Scotty could give them a chance.

Gentle footsteps. “Guys?” Mike called.

They all turned. The boy was standing there, eyes wide and darting back and forth between them all. It was a reaction any of them would have at the sight. His eyes went to Freddy and Scotty’s hands, his jaw dropping a little. He sobered his expression, shifting.

“Is…everything okay?” Mike asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Scotty said. His face became serious. “Mike, can you call Logan real fast? I need you to patch some questions I have through.”

The teen blinked. “Uh, sure? Is this about whatever…?” He gestured to them.

“Yes.” Freddy’s face was a grimace. “Scotty’s death was an accident on our end. We just found out that we killed him.”

“…What?”

“Someone tampered with them and had me killed, champ. Someone wanted me dead.”

It was Goldie’s turn to scream, _“What?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone wanted Scotty dead, but who? ;)
> 
> I have an announcement to make that I didn't want to do in the top notes because of the wonderful fanart: I'm going to college this week. I'm moving in Wednesday and I'm absolutely terrified but also really excited.
> 
> So what does this mean for the AU? **The AU will still keep chugging.** Like I always say, I've worked on this too hard to give it up now. I've been working on writing bits and pieces for future chapters like absolute crazy to crunch time. And if anything happens to me, whatever it may be that'll hinder me from continuing, I'm writing an emergency document with the timeline. It'll be posted on my AO3 and tumblr **given that anything ever happens to me** with instructions to whomever.
> 
> I wanted to let you all know because updates will slow down and I didn't want anyone scared. You can follow me on tumblr (ofshippingandpancakes) or on twitter (TheRutabaga/@AFrozenVeggie, same icon as here, gonna start using it more) for any small updates; for big updates (such as family death or exams) I'll create a temporary chapter.
> 
> For now, next chapter is already done and will be out this coming Sunday. Thank you all for your understanding in advance


	9. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike finally agrees to move out of the deathtrap and in with Chris, but there's two things he needs to do first. Both are incredibly painful to confront.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, a chapter that's not near midnight for once! The joys of actually getting things done!
> 
> We've got so much fanart, this is crazy. Princearu made a little Mikey boy reacting to meeting Foxy for the first time (It's literally on point), Mike being a cutie (it reminds me of a snapchat icon but I don't use it so idk but it's cute!),A GIF PIXEL ART OF MIKE AND I LOVE PIXEL ART SO MUCH!!! There's just Mike's everywhere! And we got a gift fic: Silentwriter28/Aquietwriter25 is writing a sic!fic called "Kindness of heart" with Mike and Logan and it's so cute! Now I want to write about the baby bean and coffee bean (I mean, most parents go fishing with their kids so C;) Y'all, my heart needs to be in one piece to live.
> 
> We're getting a little feelsy this chapter, beware and **!!! read the tags !!!**

Mike stared at him. “You… What?”

Chris let out a heatless huff. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone deaf.”

A small flush came to Mike’s cheeks. “Just repeat what you said.”

The hazel eyes rolled. “I want you to move in with me.”

Ah, so Mike hadn’t been hallucinating.

They were sitting at the park. Buddy was lying in the grass behind Chris, leash looped around the man’s wrist. They were eating some lunch Petunia had packed for them. There was a nice note inside for both of them, Chris just rolling his eyes and Mike looking at it from time to time. It reminded Mike a lot of the kids that had packed lunches and hearing about how their parents made them.

It was nice.

“Are…? Are you sure?”

“Mike, I wouldn’t be saying this if I wasn’t. I’m dead serious about you moving in.”

Mike should have been expecting it, but it was still so surreal. He had been so unsure of the thought of moving in with either Chris or Logan.

“We’ve been talking about it for a while know,” Chris said, referring to Logan and Petunia, “and with that bombshell Scotty dropped, we thought it was a good time. You’d be officially living with me, but you’d still have your space at their house.”

The teen’s jaw was gaping. He didn’t have to pick? That was the biggest reason why he had been so scared to ask. He swallowed. “My apartment-!”

“Is a death trap and completely unsafe.” Chris crossed his arms. “You’ll be safe at home.”

Mike perked a little. “Home?” he echoed quietly. He had been calling Chris's apartment and the Miller house home, had heard the others say it before when talking to him before, but paired with being asked to move in...

Chris sighed softly. “Yes, Mike. Home.”

He bit his lip. Having a place to call home sounded great, everything Mike could have ever wanted, but… “But Miss Lady…”

“Mike, I’m going to stop you right there,” Chris cut in. “I get it, you two are somewhat friends, but she’s got her own problems. You can’t stay there because she’s there, it’s not healthy for _you_. That place, that building, isn’t safe for you and your health. There’s no hot water, it’s infested with god-knows-what, and people who wouldn’t hesitate to stab you for fun. You can’t stay there, kid, not for her.”

Mike opened his mouth. “But-!”

“She’s a drug-addict and a prostitute, that’s not something you can talk her out of. She needs to get off her ass and get into rehab if she wants to change her life. I could care less what she wants to do with her life, but we’re not having you stay in a building verging on collapsing in on its rot just because of her. We’re also not risking any of her dealers or clients doing anything if they find out you’re a friend.” Chris threw up his arms. “Hell, I’ll let her stay at my place if she wants to get out, but for now she’s neck-deep in her own problems.”

Mike looked down at his lap. He didn’t want to abandon Miss Lady, he didn’t, but… Chris was right. He couldn’t talk her out of her current situation. It was a lot like his cutting; help was everywhere, but only he could stop it. She had to make the choice to put down whatever she was taking and to get off the street corner so she could get help and change for the better. It wasn’t his life, but he knew hers wasn’t healthy. One day she may overdose, or she could be killed by a client or dealer, and Mike was scared, terrified, for her. He wanted her to get help just like he was getting, to eventually get out of that dark place and find a brighter one.

The thought of Miss Lady dying was more terrifying than leaving her behind.

And that was her responsibility, not Mike’s.

“Okay,” he whispered.

The tension in Chris’s shoulders and face visibly loosened. “Good,” he said. “You already have your room set up, we just need to do some actual shopping.”

“I need to go to my apartment first,” Mike said hurriedly. “There’s something there I need.”

Chris raised a brow. “Is there actually anything there that you care about?”

Mike’s hands clenched. “Pictures.”

“Pictures?” Chris echoed. “Of what-?”

He stopped. _Oh._

_**Pictures.** _

-

The apartment was just as bare as before. Mike was lucky that the landlord hadn’t sent him an eviction notice and taken his stuff even with the rent. The photos were irreplaceable, the only concrete evidence he had of the abuse. If they were gone, then the day that Mike would ever need them would be fruitless.

Chris didn’t hide his distaste when they walked into the building, but he voiced it when they got inside the apartment. “Death trap,” he said, echoing his previous statements.

Mike looked towards the kitchen. “I have stuff sitting in there,” he said, frowning. “I should-.”

“No, you’re not throwing anything out. Let the gross bastard who runs this place do it,” Chris interrupted. “Do I need to remind you that there’s no hot water in this building and that it’s infested with rodents? Fuck cleaning out the fridge.”

Mike just nodded. He felt bad, but he wouldn’t lie at the thought of getting back at the landlord’s neglect.

“So where are the pictures?”

“The closet.” Mike looked at Chris, his eyes greying slightly. “Chris, I…”

The janitor just shook his head. “Let’s just go get them.”

Mike’s old bed had definitely been used. He didn’t leave the sheets like that and pillows on the floor. His heart pounded at the thought of someone coming in here, fearing that the photos had been found, but managed to calm himself a little at the reminder that Miss Lady had a spare key. Why she had been in his bed, he had no clue.

The closet was empty, but only two people really knew it wasn’t. Mike dropped to his knees and grabbed a stick lying on the carpet. He wedged it into what seemed to be a sealed part of the wall, wiggling it around until a chunk broke away. A small hole was revealed. 

Chris stared. “Did you do that or was there already a hole?”

Mike bit his lip. “I did,” he confessed quietly. He had broken it the moment he got the apartment. It was amazing what some glue and old nail polish could hide.

_I trust him._

With a deep breath, Mike reached and dragged the two shoeboxes out of their hiding place. They were old and beaten, but intact. Duck-tape held down the lids on both ends, black and shiny. It had been hell to keep them safe, everyone he had been around in shelters always trying to get inside to see, but they had been kept firmly shut and sealed ever since Mike left the house.

Chris stared at the boxes for a minute. “…Can I see?” he asked. Mike stiffened. Chris hurriedly backpedaled. “You can say no.”

A beat passed. Then Mike curled up, hugging himself, and whispered, “Sure.”

Chris remained still for another minute, then reached and grabbed a box. He was careful with the duct tape when he took it off. When they released their hold, Chris lifted the lid. There were photos so, _so_ many of them, all jammed and wedged into the two little boxes. They were organized by date. Pieces of cardboard separated them, months and years written on them. Chris knew that there would be more if Mike had had the room and film.

Colors. It was just an array of colors. Mike’s pearly skin was covered in sour patches of purple, blue, yellow; even green. There were pictures of Mike standing in front of the bathroom mirror with the camera held over his shoulders, marks from a belt – Chris knew far too well what those looked and felt like – lining his back. There were pictures of his face, the blue eyes dull and empty as most of his face was overtaken by swollen skin from punches and slaps. Split lips, bloodied noses, black eyes, patches of hair ripped out of his scalp, bleeding welts on his back, lacerations on his face from being hit off of counters and tables, shots of hospital paperwork in the times that Mike had broken or fractured something severe, bruises and handprints on every surface of his body.

There were more cuts in every new set. There were more pictures of Mike’s cuts than his tears.

Mike was crying silently and doing his best to not look at the photos. “I don’t like looking at them.”

Chris put the pictures back and put the top back on the box. He felt almost numb, his fingertips tingling like they had fallen asleep. He reached and wrapped an arm around Mike’s shoulders, bringing the teen against him. Mike sniffled and turned his face into Chris’s chest, breathing shakily.

“That was very brave of you, kiddo,” Chris murmured. It _was_ brave of him. Taking pictures of the aftermath of the beatings and then hiding them… It would have been the end if the bastard had found them. “You did a good job.”

“I didn’t want anyone to see…”

 _The scars_ , Chris knew. “I know,” he said. He idly patted the small back. “But that’s just how it is, kiddo. You were so brave.”

Mike didn’t want to be brave anymore. He wanted to curl underneath a blanket with pillows and light in his room. He wanted to be hugged and told that everything was going to be okay. He just wanted it to be over and to move on. He just wanted Sir gone and to have his new life without fear.

But Mike didn’t say that. A whimper escaped his mouth when he opened it, and Chris just hushed him and held him closer. “You’re okay,” Chris murmured. “We’ll put these in a safe place.”

Mike just nodded.

Chris ended up carrying them. Mike hadn’t felt even a touch of fear at the sight of someone else touching the boxes. Seeing how careful Chris was with them, speaking to him softly about how Logan had a secure safe and that the photos would be untouched had Mike soothed in a strange way. Knowing that his secret was being listened to by people who wanted to help him, not hurt him, and that Chris hadn’t looked at him with disgust at the pictures was enough for Mike to know he and the photos were safe.

They left the apartment. Mike locked it behind him. He’d drop off his key at the front desk and call later.

“I want to say goodbye to her,” he told Chris. His throat was tight.

Chris didn’t look annoyed. In fact, he looked like he understood. “Okay,” he said.

Mike was right in front of her door. He didn’t want to do this.

“Mike.” Chris was right next to him. The teen looked up, blue eyes bleak. Chris’s face was firm and set. “You’re not abandoning her. She isn’t your responsibility. If anything, you’re making an example for her. If she really wants to change, she has to ask for help. You can’t force her to change.”

The teen’s lip wobbled. “I…”

The hazel eyes softened. “You can’t let her drag you down,” he said. “You want to get better? You have to cut all the toxic things out of your life. It hurts like a bitch, but it’s better in the long run.”

Chris was obviously speaking from experience.

Mike gingerly knocked on her door.

“What?” Miss Lady’s voice was gruff when it came through.

“Miss Lady?” Mike called. “I’m, uh… I’m moving out.”

Quiet. Then, “Good for you.” Her voice came out hard and gruff. “Now go away.”

Mike’s heart dropped. Fear started crawling through his stomach and his hands started to shake. “I-I just wanted to tell you,” he continued, voice wavering. “You can probably swap the couches before the landlord moves someone in.”

“Go away, Mike,” she said again.

 _No. No, no, no, no_ , that was the tone someone used when they were done with the conversation. Done with _him_. Mike swallowed hard. “Miss Lady?” he called, uncertain. “I-.”

“Just go away!” she screeched. Mike heard her stomp away, a door slamming, and then silence. 

The teen stood there for a moment, hoping that she’d come back and open the door. He hoped that she would say goodbye, give him her number so that he could call her and she could call him. He hoped that she would realize that things could change, that she had a chance to turn her life around and be happy. He hoped that she would just _come back_.

But she didn’t – wouldn’t – do any of those things. She didn’t want him anymore.

Mike was crying again. His breathing was fast and his vision was spotting. “S-she-she doesn’t w-want me anymore,” he stammered. He whipped his head to Chris. “She doesn’t…!”

Chris put an arm around him and steered him away. “Come on, kiddo,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s go home.”

Home sounded good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss Lady, how could you? ;c
> 
> Again, expect delays in the future with me being in college. Next Sunday may be an on-time chapter, but no telling yet. Also forgive any more future typos because now I have a new laptop (my old one looks like someone chopped it in half, rest in spaghetti Tobi, you've done me a great service) and it's a little bigger so the keys aren't really where I'm used to them being.


	10. Foxglove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia takes over Mike's shift in order to properly sew up Foxy and Goldie. They learn a lot from each other within the nightly hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy, still alive (and have college assignments to do) So far so good with things being mostly on time! Knock on wood just to be sure.
> 
> I made two Frexy fics, one for my human beans and gift fic for Rainb0we and Aloverii (literally just caught the extra 'i' in their name, I'm garbo) And I know I'm fangirling but Rainb0we followed mE ON TUMBLR LIKE HOLY FUDGE!! LIKE WHEN ANY OF YOU GUYS TALK TO ME I SQUEAL BECAUSE THAT'S ME BUT HAVING SOMEONE I FOLLOW/INSANELY RESPECT NOT ONLY TALK TO ME/ACKNOWLEDGE MY EXISTENCE BUT ALSO FOLLOW ME BACK HAD ME GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST I'M STILL FREAKING OUT
> 
>  **dissolving into sobs** enjoy the chapter

Petunia looked over her sewing kit and the bag of fabric she had one last time. Everything was ready and packed. She had swung by the fabric store earlier today and picked up the right shades of colors she had determined from pictures.

“You have everything?” Logan asked, sliding up next to her.

“Yes. It was a good thing there was a sale at the fabric store or else I’d be asked why I have so much red that isn’t for clothing.” Petunia looked at him. “Is Chris still upstairs?” she asked.

Logan nodded, his expression somber. “Yeah.”

Chris had herded Mike through the door with two shoeboxes under his arm hours beforehand. The boy had been sobbing hysterically, his eyes flashing rapidly and his hands quaking. Logan had rushed over and taken the boxes at Chris’s command, the other man getting Mike to the couch, where he sobbed and clung like a little kitten. Buddy has climbed into Mike’s lap at some point, licking and nuzzling. Petunia had taken the girls with her to the fabric store earlier and hadn’t been home.

When Mike had cried himself out, Chris quietly explained what had happened. It made Logan furious at this woman, this Miss Lady. It was obvious that she knew how scared Mike was of being abandoned and yet she dropped him just like that. The shoe boxes had suddenly felt like lead.

Logan was ashamed to admit that he had peeked. He had thrown up in the bin after the third picture.

“I’ll go say goodbye,” Petunia said.

The man nodded. He still looked pale. “Okay.”

When she got upstairs, Petunia peered into the spare room. Chris was idly stroking Mike’s hair. He was sitting up, Mike’s head pillowed on his chest. The boy looked asleep, his breathing even and soft. The light from the hallway lit up the room enough where she could see his tear tracks, the paths still fresh.

Chris looked over. “Hey,” he greeted quietly. “You heading over?”

“Yes. I just wanted to check on you before I left.” She looked down at Mike. He looked so fragile and small. “How is he?”

“He gets antsy whenever I leave him,” Chris said. He looked tired. “He’s out like a light, but the second I get up he wakes up and starts crying. He’s terrified of being abandoned.”

It was sad that a teenager had such a strong fear of that. “Do you need anything?” Petunia asked.

“I need to use the bathroom and I’d like to get some food, but…”

“I’ll tag in for a minute.” Besides, a few minutes of time with the teen would do some good for the both of them.

Chris carefully began to move. He slowly maneuvered Mike off of him, mental fingers crossed, but the moment Mike’s head was lifted the blue eyes opened and began to gloss over with tears and Ink. A grimace crossed the man’s face.

“Chris?” He sounded and looked so scared.

The man hushed him. “Right here.”

“Don’t leave me,” Mike whispered. “Don’t leave me like she did.”

Miss Lady had damaged Mike’s ability to trust. She may not have been a terrific friend, but Mike had seen her as one and had cared for her friendship deeply. To have it thrown away like trash and to be there to witness it… It was affecting the bond he had built with everyone else and Chris couldn’t help but feel more furious at her.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. He slipped out of bed. “Just going to the bathroom.”

Petunia sat down on the bed. “Hi, honey pie.”

Chris had left the room. Mike was crying again. “She didn’t want me anymore.”

“I think she’s just very upset,” Petunia tried to soothe. She truly didn’t know the woman, but from how she was described it seemed like a massive 180 had been done. “I don’t think she was thinking clearly.”

“She doesn’t lie,” Mike said. “She meant it, she doesn’t want me anymore. She never wanted me, she just used me.” He looked at her with his big blue eyes. “Are…?”

Petunia stopped that in its tracks. “Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “Mike, we’re not using you for anything, nothing at all. We’re doing these things because we love you.”

The teen let out a hiccup. “I-I…”

“You’re not used to it, I know,” she gently interrupted. “You’re scared. That’s completely understandable, honey pie, we don’t blame you for it. This is all so new to you and you need time.”

“Don’t abandon me,” Mike suddenly begged, his eyes greying. “Please. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Honey pie, you’re already good. We’d never leave you even if you were bad. Never in a million years.” Petunia kissed his cheek. “We love you very much.”

Mike let out a squeaking sob. Ink began to drip down his cheeks. Petunia gently hushed him and brushed his hair.

Chris returned with some sandwiches. Mike wolfed his down, his panic having drained his appetite. There were four, so Mike was able to wolf down another. It was concerning to see him shake and sniffle like a little puppy as he ate, Chris patting his back all the while.

After Mike had finished his food, the shaking had returned. “I-I…”

“Why don’t you call the animatronics?” Petunia gently suggested. Chris’s grip on the plate tightened; she didn’t miss it.

The teen swallowed. “I don’t want to…”

 _Impose_. She shook her head. “They said they’d be there for you, Mike. Just call them.”

Mike’s eyes flickered to black. His head tilted slightly. “I-I…” He stiffened. “H… Hi, Freddy. I’m just…” He paused, then remained quiet. His eyes, however, seemed to quiver.

Chris and Petunia looked at each other. Apparently the mental connection could be just that, mental, but Mike seemed to still have some trouble with keeping it that way. Chris shrugged and laid back, keeping an eye on Mike.

The teen scooched under his arm. “Okay,” Mike murmured, presumably answering something Freddy said.

Chris’s mouth straightened. “What’s he saying?” He was a little curious, spare him.

“He’s singing,” Mike responded quietly. His lip quivered. “He always sang when I was little.”

Neither said anything. Petunia just nodded and left the room.

After a quick check on the girls, Petunia peered in on the boys one last time. They were both asleep. Chris was on his back, Mike curled up next to him under his arm. The sleeping must have worked for Mike and Chris must have been exhausted. She shut the door quietly.

After short bathroom stop, Petunia returned downstairs. Logan was sitting at the table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He looked ill and like he had lost weight. With all the meals he wasn’t finishing, he probably had.

“No coffee,” she said sternly, swiping the cup from him. Logan opened his mouth to protest. “No. You need to sleep. You can take the sleep aids in the cupboard.”

Logan sighed. “Okay.”

Petunia ran a hand through his hair. “Darling, you need to sleep.” She said softly. “You’ve been getting barely any sleep at all.”

“I know.” He stood and stretched. His back gave a small crack. “Maybe I’ll grab a beanbag and sleep in Mike’s room.”

Over the years that she knew him, Petunia knew Logan had a hard time sleeping without people nearby. It was strange to her since she had once had trouble sleeping even with her most trusted friends around her, but Logan had just always needed something living and breathing next to him.

“Just sleep with them. It’s not like you haven’t had a cuddle with either one before,” Petunia told him.

Logan let out a small laugh. “Remember that one time Chris was over? Back when he was still really closed off and he was always suspicious of why we invited him?”

_“Chris?” Logan lowered the bat. “Are you okay? What happened?”_

_The younger man was sitting up in bed, panting. He looked like a cornered animal. Chris swallowed harshly. “Nothing,” he rasped. His throat had barely survived that scream. “It’s nothing.”_

_“Chris-.”_

_“Just go back to sleep, Logan. It won’t happen again.”_

Petunia nodded. “I remember.”

_Chris was in tears, shaking and sobbing into his hands. Logan held him close and rubbed his back, murmuring soothing words._

_“They still hurt,” Chris sobbed. “My back.”_

_Logan had seen them on accident one day, when he carelessly walked into Chris’s room in the morning to ask what the janitor wanted for breakfast. The number of scars and imprints had made him freeze and his stomach roll. Chris had screamed at him to get out and slammed the door in his face. None of them spoke about it._

_“I know,” Logan murmured, but he really didn’t. Sure, he had gotten spanked as a kid, but never whipped with a belt. He couldn’t even imagine his father making sure the buckle hit his skin, let alone a belt itself._

_Chris had wept, then fallen asleep. After that things were never the same between him and the Millers._

“And then Mike…” The usually warm eyes seemed chilled and dull as they filled with tears. “Why can’t these boys get a break? Why is there always something out there that hurts them? Chris with his parents, now Mike with the robots and his parents…”

“The robots aren’t a problem anymore,” Petunia said confidently. If they were so powerful and evil, they would’ve taken their chance to hurt or kill Mike by now. They wouldn’t be playing a game like this. “His parents are, and we’re going to make sure that they’re brought to justice. And when Chris finds the courage someday, they’re going to know that what they did to him was utterly appalling if they haven’t already. Karama’s a bitch, darling.”

Logan let out a small, wheezy chuckle. “You always have your head straight, huh?” He leaned in and hugged her tightly, settling his head on his shoulder. “Just be careful, okay?”

Petunia gave him a firm squeeze. “I will. I love you, darling.”

“Love you too, baby-doll.”

\- - - - -

When Petunia walked through the door, Bonnie had been there. He was so used to greeting Mike that he had jumped a mile when seeing her. She had almost forgotten how massive they were.

The rabbit sputtered at the sight of her. “M-Missus…!”

“Petunia’s fine,” she said. She smiled warmly. “I’ll be subbing in for Mike’s fixing duty tonight.”

Bonnie seemed to swallow his tongue. He just nodded and gave a small gesture to the main room. Petunia followed him. Bonnie was apparently a little shy from what Mike said, but this was more than shyness.

“Freddy?” Bonnie called when they got to the doorway. His voice was a little tight, like he hadn’t drank anything in days. “We, uh… S-she's here.”

Freddy was on the stage. The ringleader, and also the apparent father of the others from what Petunia had gathered. Mike had mumbled something with a bowl of ice cream once, that Freddy would always make sure he got ice cream cake for his birthday because it was his favorite.

He peeked at her. His eyes were like Mike’s, dark. “Hello, Missus Miller,” he said. Petunia was caught off guard by how deep his voice was. “Sorry I can’t greet you properly, I’m…”

“Hovering!” Goldie shouted from the backroom. He sounded so…childish.

Bonnie gave a small snort. “He always hovers when one of us is upset,” he muttered.

Right, definitely the father of the group. It was cute. And very familiar. Logan tended to be the one to fret over any little thing that had the girls upset and Petunia was the one to balance that. It seemed Freddy was both in one.

Chica came out of the kitchen. She was holding a small plate of cupcakes. She cleared her throat. “Hello, Missus…”

“You can call me Petunia,” she said. She held up the bag. “Mike said someone needed some professional sewing done.”

Foxy hesitantly emerged from the Cove. He was absolutely gigantic and looked like he had been thrown into a woodchipper. “Me,” he admitted quietly. He looked over her shoulder. She noted his ears drooping at the lack of Mike even though he must have known he wasn’t coming.

“Mike’s at home. He had a…very emotional day.”

Emotional day? “What happened?” Bonnie asked. “He hasn’t really said anything and now he’s asleep.”

She explained the situation, starting with the request to move in and ending with the emotional damage Miss Lady had wrought. Petunia noted the sour expressions on their faces, their postures stiffening and their eyes occasionally flashing. It told them that they cared, that they truly worried for Mike’s health and safety.

“I see,” Freddy said lowly. His eyes were still dark. “We were wondering why he was in distress today. We felt him panicking for only a few seconds before it suddenly stopped. He wasn’t communicating with us whatsoever.”

“He’s always been like that,” Foxy murmured. His tail seemed to be frozen in midair. “He’s always been scared of botherin’ people, even if it’s fer somethin’ important.”

“He’s a sweet boy,” Petunia said. She held up her bag. “Now, who am I starting on?”

“Foxy can go first!” Goldie shouted from the backroom. “I’ll chillax!”

The Cove didn’t have any natural light, but there were some lamps that had been stored by the register. It was enough for her. She decided to start on his tail first, then work up to his chest and torso.

“That’s a lot of fabric,” Foxy commented at the sight of the bag.

She chuckled. “Yes. I have a feeling we’ll have a lot left over in case you tear anything.”

Petunia got to work. The fabric of the suit wasn’t that thick, but her thimbles came in extra handy in the moment the needle pierced it too fast. Foxy remained still, though the woman noticed that he fidgeted. He seemed flighty, nervous, and Petunia knew what that was about.

“I really hope you’re aware that Mike is absolutely heartbroken that you’re not spending time with him,” Petunia said flatly.

Foxy jolted and sputtered. Petunia remained firm with her sewing. “I-I-!”

“If you’re all going to move on, you need to make an effort, you know.”

“…I can’,” Foxy rasped after a moment. “I just…”

She looked up at him. “Just what? You know he isn’t angry with you. He just wants to move on.”

“So do I,” the fox retaliated, grimacing. “But…”

“You’re scared of messing up,” Petunia finished knowingly.

Foxy sighed. “No offense, but I just wanted ta be sewn up, not have an intervention.”

“And I want the boy I see as a son to be happy,” she responded easily. She moved to another patch on his tail. “Don’t you want that, too?”

Foxy nearly choked on his tongue. “Of course I do!” he exclaimed, surprised at her boldness. She really didn’t dance around the issue. “But everythin’ we did… Everythin’ I did…” He shook his head. “You don’ understand.”

Petunia looked at him. Foxy was hunched, his ears low. He looked like a kicked puppy. “I know what it’s like to do things and have them hang over your head for your life,” she said, sympathetic. “What matters is that you didn’t mean it in the first place and that you’re sorry. You can’t go back in time and change things, but you can go forward and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Foxy whipped his head back, scandalized. “It’s not that-!”

“Are you going to do a repeat of ’87 on purpose?” she asked, her eyes on her fingers.

There was no hesitation. “Never.” A defensive pang gave way to tense anger. “Don’ even think fer a second that I would-!”

“Are you going to ever hurt him on purpose?”

Foxy left out a frustrated growl. “I don’ want ta hurt him at all!"

“You’re going to hurt him, it’s inevitable.” She said it so simply that Foxy actually recoiled, pulling his tail towards him. “But so are the others, and so am I, and Logan, and Chris, and so on. And you know what will also happen? He’s going to hurt all of us at some point, too. Everyone hurts each other whether they mean to or not, you can’t avoid it no matter how much you try.”

The cloudy yellows peered at her. “Why are ye doin’ this?” he asked. He sounded tired.

“Because Mike deserves to be happy, and if you’re honestly wanting to be there for him and make up for what you’ve done, then so do you.”

Foxy said nothing as she finished his tail and moved to his chest.

A while later, Petunia popped out of the Cove. “He’s done!” she called.

Freddy teleported in front of the Cove. Chica and Bonnie got up from their game and went over.

“Tell me how he looks!” Goldie yelled from the backroom.

Foxy poked his head out, a genuine and excited smile on his face, and then emerged. The hole in his chest was gone, as were the smaller tears. The patches were nearly nonexistent now, everything blending in. There was even a shine in Foxy’s eyes now, the sunny yellows glassed with polish.

Everyone let out gasps and awes. Freddy was grinning widely. “Look at you!” he exclaimed. “You’re brand new!”

Foxy gave a giddy, toothy smile. “I feel like it.”

Chica was quivering faintly. “I’m not going to cry,” she muttered, turning away and closing her eyes. “I’m not.”

Foxy hopped off the stage. His tail, now free of patches, swayed. He turned and held his hand for Petunia. She accepted it, making to jump gracefully.

“We can’t thank you enough, Petunia,” Freddy said. His smile was so contagious, she couldn’t help but smile wider. “For him to be fixed and sewn up…”

She waved her hand. “It wasn’t a problem. My hands got quite the workout.” She looked towards the backroom. “Now I’ll get started on him and then I’ll head home.”

They nodded. “Alright,” Freddy said. “Again, thank you so much, Petunia.”

The woman smiled and began to walk towards the backroom. She hoped Scotty would be around tonight, though she wasn’t sure where else a spirit could really be. She was curious on how everything worked.

“Petunia?” She turned around. Foxy was standing there, rubbing his hook absently. “I, uh…” He looked at her and gave a nervous smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She raised a brow. “So, are you going to start working on things?”

A nervous laugh. “Yeah,” he answered, sheepish. “Yeah, I need ta get started on that.” He looked back at the others. “I think I’ll actually play a game with them tonight. I usually miss out.”

Petunia gave him a thumbs up.

Goldie’s eyes shot up when Petunia opened the door the rest of the way. He let out a small sound. “Uh, hi, Petunia.”

“Hi, Goldie.” She would admit that it twisted her heart to see his pupils widen. “So, how about you?”

Goldie seemed to be startled. “M-me?” he stammered. “Oh, right. Yeah, I, uh, sort of forgot about me.”

Petunia smiled. “I hope you and Scotty are up for a conversation, because I’d like to get to know you and catch up with my friend."

Goldie’s jaw seemed to drop further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One step closer to the happy ending (we're far from done, don't take what I said too seriously) and Foxy not being a complete idiot (he's always going to be an idiot, lbh)
> 
> The title was also a play on words. Foxy? Petunia? Get it?


	11. Just Like Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike gets a giant wave of comfort in the form of cake and fluffy hugs, Goldie discovers a new way of transportation, Bonnie nearly gets his leg ripped off, and Foxy isn't a complete idiot for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An on time chapter! Working on things weeks before actually pays off, what a shock!
> 
> Princearu37 made fanart of Mike! It's inspired by Moving On, so there's baby bean tears. I ask myself if I should tone it down on him, but then I remember that this an AU about family and healing, and healing hurts like fuck.
> 
> But baby bean and fluffy bean time! Hell yeah, let's get to it!
> 
> Quick warning: there is talk of needles in this chapter (italicized flashback), so if that makes you squeamish, be prepared or skip past it. It comes after the line break introducing the second part. Other than that, here's the dorks.

“Mike.”

“Chris, don’t make me take it.”

“Mike, I don’t like you being defenseless.”

The sky-blues became glassy instantly.

Chris sighed. “Fine,” he said, relenting. “But just for tonight.”

They both had a feeling that wasn’t true.

“Look, just call whenever if you need anything. If you want to come home or just need to talk; whatever it is, just call, okay?” The worry was still on Chris’s face. “Are you sure you want to go in tonight? You don’t have to.”

Mike shook his head. “I want to see them,” he murmured.

Mike hadn’t left his room all day. He had just been under the covers and trying his hardest to sleep. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was crying. He still couldn’t full process it, Miss Lady’s abandonment, not after everything. He managed to make some peace with the fact that he had to get out of bed to do some things as well as Chris, but he still got jittery.

But they were all there, chiming in every once in a while when one went away. He felt them all, his Lines humming powerfully as he slept and whenever he woke up.

“Okay,” Chris said simply. He didn’t even try and argue. As much as he hated to admit it, Mike needed them right now. “Remember, just call, okay?”

Chris pulled out and left after some more talking, though he was suspiciously slow about it. The moment Mike opened the door, Bonnie was there to scoop him up. Mike said nothing and melted into the embrace. It felt so natural even with the years apart. Bonnie smelled like cinnamon buns and oranges, and his fur was so soft.

Mike sniffled. Bonnie smoothed some of his hair down. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

It was so familiar. Mike remembered all the times when he would be crying or tired, and one of the animatronics would scoop him up into a hug and hold him until he felt better or fell asleep. 

They went into the main room. Bonnie was still petting his hair and holding him close. The others were there, even Foxy. The backroom door was cracked for Goldie and could be seen leaning against the wall by the doorway, but just barely.

Chica came out of the kitchen with a slice of cake on a plate. “Hi, sweetie,” she greeted. She walked over and set it on the table. “Just for you.”

Mike gaped. “Ice cream cake?” It was his favorite. “I…”

“There’s plenty more in the kitchen. Just don’t eat too much where you’ll get sick.”

Bonnie set him down in the chair, giving him another gentle pat on the head.

“It’s yer favorite flavor,” Foxy said. He was on his knees, leaning against the table.

Mike looked at him, wide-eyed. It wasn’t just because Foxy was out here, but because he could see that the tears were gone. “You’re all fixed,” he murmured.

Foxy gave a toothy smile. “Yeah.”

“And every thanks to you,” Freddy added. He had the expression of a proud father watching their child ride a bike. “We feel fresher than we have in years because of you.”

Mike’s cheeks became bright red and he ducked his head.

“Argh!” Goldie yelled. Something could be heard hitting to floor. “Fuck!”

Everyone looked over. Freddy frowned. “Are you okay, Goldie?”

“Yeah, fine!” Another thump. “Motherfucker!”

Freddy sighed. “Just hold on,” he said, walking over. “What are you doing?”

The answer came a second later when Goldie’s head hopped out of the doorway.

Chica dropped the fork for Mike she had been carrying.

“Scotty, lift me higher!”

A faint outline could be seen overhead. “I’m trying!” he exclaimed. Everyone could hear him. “You’re heavy for just a head, you know? And I’m just barely getting by!”

“What the fuck?” Foxy whispered.

Freddy stared, absolutely astonished, before shaking his head and recovering. “I got him,” he said, reaching and picking Goldie’s head up. He turned the other bear towards him. “I have to say you’re very creative, but next time please tell us in advance before you traumatize someone.”

Goldie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, maybe I should’ve said something.”

Scotty faded. “Thanks,” he muttered, sighing. “He’s…heavy.”

“As you can see, I’ve lost a lot of weight,” Goldie said, rolling his eyes. “3/4’s of my body weight to be exact. I’m trying to slim down, okay?”

Freddy let out a poorly disguised cough. Foxy just narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

Freddy came back with Goldie and set him on the table. “Hi, Mike,” he greeted, his voice gentler. “You doing okay?”

Mike managed a smile. “Yeah.” He was still hurt, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Then he frowned. “What about you? Aren’t you in pain from doing that?”

The butterscotch bear give a big, genuine smile. “Nah, I’m completely fine. This takes way less energy to move like this. I should’ve thought of this years ago.” He looked at the cake. “Hopefully I can get a slice of that.”

Chica shrugged. “If you want.”

“Just going to mention that I’m a disgusting rat when it comes to sweets. I’ll take anything I can get as long as it’s sweet.”

“Good to know. Don’t come in the kitchen.”

“I’ve only heard legends about what happens when you go into the forbidden kitchen, I’d rather not see if they’re true.”

Chica snickered and looked at Bonnie. “Someone catches on fast.”

Freddy opened his mouth.

“No,” the three promptly in unison.

Mike raised a brow. “What?”

“He was going to make the dumb fire joke,” Bonnie said.

“The…what?”

“Long story short, Freddy caught partially on fire one time when we were younger,” Chica explained. “And that’s one of the many reasons I don’t let anyone into the kitchen.”

Mike stared at Freddy, wide-eyed. “You caught on fire?”

Freddy shrugged. “Only my ear.”

“And yer arm,” Foxy added flatly. “And part of yer back.”

Goldie laughed. “Oh yeah, you mentioned that!”

Freddy just grumbled. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“All of us were screaming. Bonnie was sobbing and thinking that you were going to die.”

“To be fair, Bonnie thought I was going to die whenever anything happened to me.”

The rabbit sputtered. “Did not!”

Mike had picked up his fork and had started eating his slice of cake, eyes going back and forth between everyone.

“… when Freddy fainted?” Chica was saying, smirking.

“You thought he was dead, too!” Bonnie exclaimed, frustrated.

“Yeah, ye were both cryin’ like babies,” Foxy snickered.

“Foxy, if I remember right, you were also crying,” Freddy said.

“Yeah, but not as bad as them.”

“Fair enough.”

“Man, it is roasting from how hot the flames of family disputes are in here,” Goldie commented.

“We’re on a low setting, it’s not as heated as you think,” Freddy told him.

Foxy stood up. “I’m five seconds from jumpin’ out the window and never comin’ back.”

Mike had finished his slice of cake. It hadn’t been too big, but it was just as delicious as he remembered. He looked up at Chica. “Can I have some more?” he asked.

Chica smiled at him warmly. “Of course, sweetheart.” She picked up his plate. ‘“Does anyone else want any?”

“Truce for cake?” Bonnie asked, looking at everyone else.

“Truce.”

The orchid eyes rolled. “Good to know my baking is a good fight-stopper.” She went into the kitchen. “Hang tight.”

Freddy looked down at Mike. “Michael,” Freddy began. The sky-blues went to him. “I know it’s hard to think about and you don’t want to dwell on it too much, but we want you to know that we will never, ever abandon you. You’re a part of our family and always have been.”

The teen bit his lip. “I…”

“All jokes aside, that’s not how we’ve ever worked.” Bonnie dropped into a crouch next to him. “We always stick together and look out for each other, Mike. That’s what family does.”

“We fucked up,” Foxy said, grimacing at the blatant truth. “But we’re goin’ ta make it up as much as we can ta ye. We’re not doin’ this because we feel bad, we’re doin’ this because we love ye.”

Mike wiped his face. He was getting teary-eyed again.

Chica came back, eyes black and Lines holding plates of cake. “And we’ll all spend time together as a family,” she said, setting the plates down on the table.

Goldie smiled sheepishly. “And I’ll, uh, hopefully still be around to join in.”

Bonnie leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Mike’s temple. “None of us are going anywhere, Mikey,” he said, smiling. “We’re always going to be here for you.”

Mike didn’t say anything. He just reached for Bonnie until he was engulfed in more lilac fur.

-

_He was lying in bed, staring listlessly at the wall, when the doctor came in._

_Mikey didn’t like doctors. He used to be somewhat fine with them, but now they scared him. They never left him alone for more than a few minutes, always one coming in and prodding at his barely conscious mind for the same questions over and over every day. All he could do was respond in groans and small movements. He answered them all the same – he thinks he does – and doesn’t understand why they keep asking._

_Sir told him he was lucky that a company was paying for the medical bills, because Sir was more than willing to cut some very important wires or smother him with a pillow. Mikey couldn’t speak, language and his mouth not compatible at the moment, so Sir didn’t have to worry about anything slipping out. He was there sometimes, always looming over the shoulders of doctors and nurses with his dark eyes. Sometimes they’d get glassy whenever he talked to a doctor and his face would be pinched, but they’d instantly dry and his face would smooth out whenever they were alone._

_His vision was always blurry and he always felt floaty. Mikey was on a lot of medicine, heavy painkillers, because the moments he started to feel in tune with his body was when he started crying and screaming with pain. His head would throb faintly under the haze, but when the painkillers wore off it became a skull-splitting fire that made him want to die. It hurt without them. The doctors said he’d need them for a long time, along with a lot of therapy and counseling because he could be really different when he became coherent._

_The words never really registered and Mikey didn’t fully understand most of them._

_Mama was there a lot, and she was always crying. Her dead stare weren’t around when she was there, just warm brown eyes that were always filled with tears. She would kiss his cheeks and warm his hands, sobbing out apology after apology. Sorry that she left him alone, sorry that she wasn’t good enough, sorry that she was crazy, sorry that she was a monster. Sorry sorry sorry. She kept promising she’d fix herself, that she’d stop being a monster towards him and stop being crazy, that she’d beg Sir to allow her special medicine and help. She said she loved him, she loved him more than anything. She loved him even more than she loved Sir, she said._

_Mikey wanted to believe that, but fragments of everything she had done to him would always surface when she was there. Despite her declarations of love and her promises, he was still scared of her._

_The door creaked open. “How are you doing today, Michael?”_

_His nametag was pinned neatly on his coat. Mikey could barely read it, his brain struggling to comprehend letters in its state. The doctor’s eyes were a dark grey like silver storm clouds. His dark brown hair was tied into a low ponytail that sat on his shoulder._

_“I see.” He looked down at a chart and chuckled. “Same name as my oldest. Same middle name as my middle child, too. Small world.”_

_Then there was a needle. The needle brought a speck of terror to his usually blank mind. Mikey didn’t like needles. This one was different: It was filled with a black, syrupy liquid._

_“Now what I’m going to do is going to be very strange and will hurt a lot, but it’s going to help you.”_

_The Doctor had strapped him down at some point. There was a strap of cloth tied around his head and between his teeth. Another one was tied around him and covered his lips. Mikey struggled feebly, distressed sounds trying to escape just like him, but it was no use._

_“This is a method I developed myself,” The Doctor said. His voice was a purr. “I’ve had to jump through a lot of hoops to get this with all the hovering your parents have done, so I can’t have you squirming and knocking this out of my hand. It would take me a long time to get more.”_

_Mikey wanted… He wanted his dolls. His plush dolls. Everything was so foggy, so in pieces, but all he knew was that his parents scared him and his dolls made him happy. He couldn’t reach them, they were somewhere else._

_“If you somehow remember this at all, this is our little secret.” The Doctor’s smirk was dark and filled with a promise. “It would be such a shame to kill you after I put that head of yours back together.”_

_The needle went in. Mikey couldn’t even scream._

Mike jerked up with a gasp. His skin felt hot and tight with fear. Something was on top of him, weight settled against his back. Whatever it was jerked violently with a snarl and lunged off him, Mike letting out a terrified squeak and curling up.

Bonnie stumbled back with a screech. He was clutching a large blanket. “Fuck!”

Foxy lowered his hook. “Fuckin’ hell, Bonnie!” he snapped. “I could’ve ripped yer leg off!” 

_What?_

Mike looked around. He was in the Cove, the curtains opened just a bit to allow some dim light in. He was on a pile of pillows, a big pile, and near the old pirate ship in the corner.

He rubbed his eyes. When did he get here?

“…damn hair-trigger when you’re woken up!” Bonnie was glaring at Foxy, rosy eyes practically daggers.

“I didn’ know who ye were!” Foxy retorted, though his ears were low with guilt. “And Mikey…”

“You’ve never been that vicious when you’re woken up, I’m just going to say. Not sure if it’s because Mikey’s in here or what, but that was incredibly terrifying.” Bonnie sighed. “I think my soul inverted itself.”

“I didn’ actually get ye, right?”

“No, but I felt the breeze your hook made against my leg when it went by. At least you didn’t go for my neck like that one time.”

“Again, didn’ know who ye were.”

“Yeah, I’m seeing a pattern with that.”

Mike yawned. The two looked over. “Oh. Hi, Mikey,” Bonnie greeted, ears bowing a little in embarrassment.

Foxy matched his expression. “Didn’ mean ta wake ye, lad,” he said. “I just… Uh…”

A bleary sky-blue eye peeked at him. “What happened?” he asked.

“Right now or how you got here? Because Foxy nearly ripped my leg off for trying to put a blanket over you,” Bonnie said matter-of-factly.

Foxy gave him a glare that could melt metal.

“Yeah, that. But also how I got in here.”

The tiny speck of sass had the two nearly double taking. “You fell asleep shortly after we ate cake,” Bonnie answered.

_Goldie looked up at Mike from the teen’s lap. Mike’s head was settled against the wall and his eyes were shut, his chest rising and falling evenly. Goldie nearly squealed with how cute the kid looked when sleeping._

_“Guys,” he whispered harshly. He just wished they’d connect with him already. “Guys.”_

_Everyone looked up. Bonnie and Chica were currently at war with some card game and Foxy was waiting for his turn with a fuse shorted than a matchstick. Freddy set aside his book._

_“He’s sleeping,” Goldie said. He looked up again. “He’s so fucking cute. You guys got to see that face whenever he fell asleep as a kid?”_

_Freddy chuckled. “We did.” He stood up and walked over. “Foxy, do you think he could stay in the Cove? I know you have some pillows in there.”_

_Foxy set down his cards. “Yeah. I think I’ll head back in anyways.”_

_Bonnie and Chica gave quiet groans. “Seriously?” Chica said. “It was just getting good.”_

_“Oh yeah, things were gettin’ so good as I wait fer my turn for another five minutes. Can’ play cards with any of ye.”_

_“You just gotta try harder, Foxy.”_

_“And lose my functionin' hand? Yeah, I’m good with bein’ a loser in this case.” He stood up. “Don’ kill each other unless I’m here ta watch.”_

_They rolled their eyes._

_Freddy had set Goldie on the stage and had picked Mike up. The bear was already halfway to the Cove, Mike settled against his chest and still asleep. Foxy got off the stage and went after them, his soul humming with anxiety._

_“Are you going to watch him?” Freddy asked, though there was a knowing statement in his tone._

_“Yeah.” Foxy went and sat on the pillows. Petunia had sewn some tears on them as well. He reached despite the quiet fear in the back of his mind that he would do something to drop and hurt the boy. “I’ve got him.”_

_It was a careful exchange, but Mike remained asleep. The emotional toll and the cake made a perfect coma combo. Foxy nearly let out a small cry at how small Mike still was in his grip and against him. The boy had barely changed over the years in terms of size, and it was so surreal that he felt his eyes blacken immediately._

_“I’m fine,” he rasped out, holding Mike carefully. He knew Freddy was about to say something. “He’s just really small.”_

_Freddy chuckled. “He certainly is. I’m wondering if he’ll grow another inch or two within a little time.”_

_Foxy would admit that having Mike grow a little taller would be a little paining for him. He didn’t really like the thought of Mike growing up._

_“Just Flicker if you need anything,” Freddy said. “I’ll try and have those two keep it down.”_

_A snort. “Yeah, in our dreams.”_

_“Even then, I’m sure they wouldn’t.”_

Of course, they didn’t tell Mike all that.

“Are you okay? You looked a little upset while asleep before you woke up,” Bonnie said.

“Yeah, just…” He swallowed dryly. “Just remembered why I don’t like hospitals.”

Foxy looked away. Mike felt his heart clench at what he had just hinted at.

“N-no, I mean…” He suddenly shut his mouth.

_Our little secret._

“Mike?” Bonnie called.

The teen shrugged. “Nothing.”

Bonnie eyed him curiously. Then sighed. “Okay, so now that my legs aren’t being ripped off.” He handed the blanket to Foxy. “Here.”

The fox gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Bonnie.”

Bonnie just waved him off. “I’m going back to our game. We’ll wake Mike when it’s time to go.” He looked at Mike and smiled, then left.

Mike looked at Foxy. “How come you were next to me?” He was genuinely curious.

Foxy bit his lip. “Just makin’ sure ye’re sleepin’ alright,” he said, though it sounded like an excuse. “Ye’ve been sleepin’ fer a while.”

Wait. “Chris,” he blurted, mortified. He hadn’t been there to answer to phone.

“Freddy talked ta him, said ye were asleep,” Foxy told him. “He didn’ come over or anythin’, so…”

Freddy had gotten Chris to back off? Really? “You’re kidding.” There’s no way Chris would just let up, especially not to one of them.

The fox shrugged. “Freddy’s persuasive.”

Apparently enough to sway Chris from coming over. Maybe it was a little sign of hope that Chris would eventually get somewhat along with the animatronics too.

He jolted mid-yawn at the blanket being wrapped around him. The sudden weight made him squeak.

Foxy winced. “Sorry.” He settled down on his belly, legs curling slightly. “Ye can go back out if ye want,” he said.

Mike shook his head. “I’m still pretty tired.” He swore his heart was still bleeding over Miss Lady’s abandonment.

It was almost instinct, lying back against Foxy’s side and burrowing into it. As a child, Mike had been insanely small compared to Foxy. Sure, he had grown, but he only came up to the fox’s _elbow_. It was almost like yesterday, falling asleep to Foxy’s wild stories and warmth.

Mike took in a deep breath. “You smell like strawberries,” he murmured. “And cinnamon.”

“That shampoo does the trick, I’ll tell ye,” Foxy chuckled. “I’ve noticed ye smell like apples.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Ye smelled like them all the time, ye know?”

Mike felt his stomach tense. He hoped Foxy wouldn’t get interrupted by the overhang of ’87 in his dive into nostalgia. “I always wanted some,” Mike said carefully.

A small laugh. “Always.” A distant twinkle was in the sunny eyes. “Ye _had_ ta have apple slices or else ye’d throw a little fit. One of the very few times ye'd actually get like that. Ye loved them so much. And every year whenever Halloween came around, we’d get ye a caramel one and ye’d have it eaten in minutes.”

The pale cheeks grew pink. “Huh.”

Foxy paused, then looked back. “Ye’d always try and share them, though,” he added quietly. “We didn’ pretend ta eat them, ye know.”

Mike looked at him, curious. “Wait, you actually ate them? But…”

“Let’s just say the cleanin’ crew was tired of cleaning apple out of our mouths.”

A giggle. “You seriously ate them? You could have just pretended.”

“Yeah, but it was special ta ye that we ate. Ye were always so worried that we were hungry because ye never saw us eat.”

_“Mikey, I…”_

_The big blue eyes filled with tears. “You didn’t eat,” Mikey sniffled. His hand with the apple slice wavered._

_Foxy frowned. The texture of it was weird and it was a mess to clean up, and Mikey actually needed food, but… “Yeah, I should eat,” he said, dropping into a crouch. “Careful, I’ll gobble ye up too if ye’re not careful.”_

_Mike giggled. “You don’t eat kids.”_

_“Ah, that’s right. They’re no good without ketchup!” He poked Mikey’s stomach, earning a happy squeal. “Alright, give one here.”_

Mike’s face was bright red. “I was so dumb,” he muttered.

“Ye weren’ dumb,” Foxy responded firmly. Mike actually startled at the force of it. “Ye were just a little lad bein’ cute as usual.”

The teen fixed the blanket over him. “I guess.”

A few minutes went by. With Mike by his side, the warmth and gentle heartbeat of the boy had Foxy dozing. He used to cuddle and hold the boy all the times, reveling in the warmth and the fact that he was holding the child he saw as a baby brother. The memories were pleasant, fuzzy, and Foxy found that he could enjoy them without the bitter taste of negativity in his mouth.

“…Foxy?”

The sunny eyes looked back. “Yeah?”

Mike was bleary-eyed. “Can you tell me a story?”

Foxy blinked. He hadn’t told a story in a long, long time. “Uh, if ye want me ta.”

“Can you pick?”

“I, uh… Sure.”

It had been a long time since he had told a story, but he remembered enough of them. He picked one that wasn’t wild, just something calm. There weren’t too many of those ones, but with Mike being a common visitor to the Cove, Foxy improvised a lot. Mike had always seemed to enjoy the stories were the sad protagonist got rescued and taken somewhere happy, and now Foxy knew the entire truth as to why.

“…and so the commoner went with the knight and his men back ta the castle, where they made the commoner the royal weaver. The commoner’s dreams of being free from hurt and becoming a weaver were now true. The end.”

A quick glance back at Mike had Foxy holding himself back from letting out a small, incredibly proud sound. Mike’s breathing was even and calm. He was practically swallowed by the ruby fur – just a little tuft of pale skin and black hair. He looked so…young, so worn. There were crescents under his eyes, his cheeks were still a little sunken, and his lips were pale and bitten. He looked so fragile, so weak and vulnerable to the slightest thing.

And Foxy had been a hand in doing that to him.

Before the reluctant need to move and get Mike to somewhere that didn’t have him adding to a potential disaster, the teen turned further into his fur with a quiet sound. Foxy couldn’t help but smile, and the dread mostly dispersed.

Petunia was right. He had to stop fucking around. The more he wallowed and stuck his feet in the mud, the farther he drifted away from Mike. He couldn’t fully move on, not yet and probably never, but at least he could try and start. This wasn’t just about him and his misery anymore, this was about them and finally moving on from ’87.

He had to do this.

“No more fuckin’ around,” Foxy whispered. He curled his tail around Mike’s waist. “I said I’d be there fer ye. I’m goin’ ta live up ta my promise, Mikey, I swear.”

For Mikey.

When Freddy came in later to carefully lay another blanket over the two of them, he had to resist giving them both goodnight kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goldie gets an A+ for creativity. And now that he's easily portable, he can be included more!
> 
> Yeah, I made sure that Foxy and Mike comfort can tenfold. We're going right to cuddling. We'll eventually get to the giant puppy pile with everyone, don't worry, I didn't make these fluffy dorks 7+ feet tall for nothing. And Foxy may be a roughened idiot, but he's also incredibly emotional; he's the type to cry over baby clothes.
> 
> But it seems a certain someone was doing experiments on Mike after the Bite. Who could it possibly be? Hint: who's the biggest fucknut in the franchise? (Human fucknut, not robot fucknut)


	12. Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike finds himself in a dangerous situation when two people attempt to abduct him. Goldie wonders about human reproduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Mike being in pain, what's up with that? (I need to stop torturing my baby bean)
> 
> Mangleschmidt included Mike in a Draw the Squad meme, he looks so squishy and cute. The picture is super funny, go check it out on her tumblr!
> 
> WARNING: violence against an animal is in this chapter! It's brief, not graphic, and there's no animal death, but be aware that an animal will be hurt!

“How was your latest therapy session?” Chris asked.

Mike shrugged. “Draining.”

They had talked about Miss Lady’s abandonment. Mike had cried nearly the whole session, much to his embarrassment. Sure, they had talked about the importance of family and trust, how Mike had had the comfort of falling back on that, but it still sucked the life out of him.

“Ice cream after this?”

The ice cream truck at the park had broken down, so they had just gotten lunch. “Yeah.”

Buddy was lapping at the water in the portable dish by Mike’s leg. They were at the park again, eating lunch. Mike had honestly just wanted to stay home and sleep, but Petunia insisted he take a walk beforehand.

“She just tolerated me,” Mike murmured, idly poking at a fry. “Like everyone else does.”

“Did,” Chris corrected. “Logan and Petunia didn’t even tolerate you, they just adopted you outright. I tolerated you because I thought you were going to die on shift.”

A tired, but playful, huff. “Thanks, Chris.”

“You see why I’m not the go-to for comfort?” Chris asked, raising a brow.

_The gentle murmurs that everything was okay, strong arms holding him and trying to protect him from everything, almost always by his side._

“Not really.”

A car alarm went off in the distance. Chris’s head jerked up. Mike frowned lightly. “What?”

“That car alarm sounds an awful lot like mine,” Chris said. He handed the leash the Mike. “Stay here, I’m going to go check.”

“Can I come with you?” Mike asked. He didn’t really want to be alone.

“If someone’s breaking into the truck, in damn broad daylight, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But my powers…”

Chris gave him a sharp look. “Are things we can’t let anyone else see.” He started jogging away. “Just wait here.”

Mike just huffed. He stood up and stretched, grunting when his back popped. “You wouldn’t be any help, would you?” he asked Buddy. The dog looked up at him. “Logan said you’re a good attack dog, but I think you’re a lazy potato.”

Buddy just yawned.

The teen snuck a few extra fries to Buddy, the dog happily accepting them, before tossing the rest in the garbage. He was actually eating now, not as much as a normal person, but he was actually maintaining his weight and eating. It had only been a month, but Mike felt so…new.

Mike looked around, then reached and slowly pulled back his sleeve. The holes were still there, a few new ones there with it. The guilt that came with them was stronger than anything he had ever felt, and not just guilt towards himself. He hadn’t felt the draft again, but he swore that someone was watching him. Scotty was the only one who could actually leave the pizzeria, but he wouldn’t _spy_ on Mike…

Right?

He down his sleeve with a sigh. “Let’s go, Buddy,” he said, grabbing the leash. “Chris just said not to go with him. He didn't say anything about going anywhere else."

Okay, maybe he was becoming a little big of a smartass.

A hand slapped over his mouth, an arm around clamping around his torso. Mike instantly started screaming, the sound muffled, and kicked and thrashed in the grip. He dropped Buddy’s leash, his hands clenching and scrabbling for some purchase. Buddy barked, his usual howls defensive and vicious. He lunged at the attacker’s leg and sank his teeth into the stranger’s flesh. The man let out a screech, trying to pull back his leg to no avail.

“Fuck!” a man exclaimed. “Get it off me!”

Buddy let out a high squeal when a leg came from nowhere and kicked him in the ribs. He stumbled back, whimpering. Another kick was made to his leg, earning a high squeal. Mike let out a furious scream from behind the hand and thrashed harder.

“The dog fucking bit me!” the man yelled.

“I told you we should’ve gotten rid of it!” a woman’s voice snapped back. “It’s going to bark and alert someone!”

“We’re not killing the dog!”

“Then I will!”

Mike’s eyes darted to the woman. She was dressed casual minus the mask over her face. Of course they wouldn’t want to be seen in broad daylight.

The teen jerked his face from the hand. “Buddy, run!” he shouted. “Go get Chris!”

With a pained whine, Buddy limped off hurriedly.

The woman raised a pistol. “Like hell.”

Mike snarled like a rabid animal and kicked her thigh. She let out a furious roar, her arm dropping and a hand going to nurse the spot. Buddy was already gone, down the path and heading towards the parking lot. Even wounded, the dog was determined. The hand came back over his mouth, tight.

“Little brat!” she spat. “We’ve got five minutes before someone comes through. Let’s go.”

The man started to move him. Mike managed to open his mouth and bite into the gloved hand. The attacker let out a pained screech, ripping his hand away and throwing Mike off of him.

“You idiot!” the woman spat.

The teen steadied himself and started to run. “Help! Help!”

Mike let out a cry when he was suddenly tackled. His chin slammed into the concrete path, his teeth practically rattling. It must have been the man from the deep panting and heavy weight. The woman had been pretty thin.

 _“Foxy?”_ Mike called through the Line. _“Are you there?”_

He felt his Line hum louder. _“Mikey? What’s goin’ on, lad?”_

_“I’m-!”_

“Ah!” Mike cried when a foot wedged itself under his arm and got the side of his chest. “Stop!”

“Jesus, shut him up!”

“He’ll just bite me again!”

_“Mikey?!”_

He squeezed his eyes shut again. _“Two people just jumped me and are trying to kidnap me! Chris is at the truck because they set off the alarm!”_

“We don’t have time for this!” A hand wedged under him and yanked out his arm. Mike yelped when he was pulled with the weight of a grown man on his back. “Get up or I’ll make you!”

“Fuck you!” Mike exclaimed.

“Have it your way,” the masked woman growled. “Hold him still.”

His arm was dropped, then he was pinned. A knee dug into his back, another on the junction of his arm. His arm was grabbed, bent until it ached. There was pressure, a faint _crack_ , and then Mike was screaming. He knew what a broken bone felt like, and that was definitely a broken bone.

“I don’t like doing this, especially to a kid, but you’re going to get more broken bones if you don’t come with us,” the masked man said.

“Honestly, I don’t care,” the woman said. “I’ll gladly break something else if he keeps acting up.”

Mike’s connections thrummed deeply. There was no doubt that the others had felt that burst of pain.

_“Mikey?! What’s goin’ on, what happened?!”_

_“My arm…”_ He sniffled. _“She broke my arm.”_

_“She fuckin’ what?!”_

_“Foxy, it hurts.”_

His arm was tugged. “Get off!” Mike screeched, a Line shooting from his back and slamming into the man.

The attacker let out a grunt when he hit the ground. Mike rolled onto his back, clutching his arm and trying not to break into total panic. He sat up, shaking and face wet, when something blinking caught his eye.

"Holy shit!" the woman cried. "Did you get that on tape?! Dennis was right!"

The inky orbs darted to a tree, where a third masked stranger was standing with a camcorder. Their hand stayed steady, eyes widening, and then they ran. They had a camera, they had seen, but right now, with his arm broken and his soul burning, Mike could care less.

The woman brought up her gun again. Mike let out a terrified cry.

"J, don't kill him!" the man shouted. "We need him alive!"

A Line slithered out of Mike's back and grabbed a rock lying along the path. He threw it at the woman, hitting her in the stomach. She let out a breathless cry and fell over clutching her stomach.

He grabbed another one, but he and his Line were shaking violently. Her pained sound hadn't been satisfying, but he hadn't felt even a little bad. It terrified him.

_“Foxy, I don’t want to be like him.”_

_“Like who?”_

_“Sir! I don’t want to be like Sir!”_

_“Mikey, ye’re not…”_

Mike let out a sob. He was so angry and he wanted to strike back, to hurt, but he was terrified. What if he didn’t stop? What if he laughed and laughed as he punched the masked man in the face? What if he got off on the pain, of hurting another person?

“You know, I was actually on your side when it came to getting you to Dennis unharmed, but now I’m going to knock you the fuck out!” the man exclaimed, pulling himself back up.

Mike’s eyes darkened further, his jaw clenched so hard it was close to breaking. “Get away from me!” he shouted. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like jelly and everything hurt. He scooted backwards. His Line withered, the rock dropping.

His hair was grabbed and yanked. “You’re seeing Dennis whether you have superpowers or not, now shut up and behave or else I’ll break your legs and drag you!”

_“Mikey, close yer eyes.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Just trust me, okay? I’ll keep ye safe.”_

Mike obeyed.

A rush suddenly filled Mike’s veins. He felt like he was shoved backwards inside his own body, put into a corner and cradled with fiery anger and the smell of strawberries. Everything went dark. All he could hear was muffled sounds like he was between being awake and asleep. He was floating, the fear and pain gone and replaced with serenity.

The white pupils flickered to yellow. “Ye’ve got five seconds ta get yer fuckin’ hands off of him.”

The man recoiled, but didn’t let go. “What the hell?! Why do you sound like the fox?!”

Foxy twisted Mike’s mouth into a toothy grin. “Because I _am_ the fox!”

It was so weird being in Mike’s body. The world had definitely gotten bigger, the height change so startling, and he certainly felt more fragile, but Foxy could feel blood pumping and a heart beating and lungs breathing, and it was so bizarre and made him feel wildly alive. The only thing that made him want to scream was the pain in the left arm, but he ignored it, fed the pain the wild fire. He had put the boy under in case anything drastic happened while Foxy was at the wheel. He didn’t want to traumatize Mike.

“Ah, I remember ye,” Foxy purred. He saw the brown eyes widen behind the mask. “Carl, right? I believe Bonnie broke yer wrist last I remember.”

Carl wrenched his hold from the black locks and stumbled back. “Oh fuck!” he exclaimed.

Foxy pulled himself up. He made sure to keep his arm in a firm hold. He stepped forward towards Carl. “What’s the matter, Carl? Do I scare ye even like this?”

“Get away from me!” the man cried, backing away. “Get away from me, you freak!”

The black and yellow eyes narrowed. He knew that was directed at Mike and not him. “Ye don’ ever call Mikey that,” he growled lowly. “Never.”

Carl continued to back away. He was shaking.

Foxy felt the pain of the broken bone. His snarl grew deeper. “Ye hurt him,” he said lowly. “Ye _hurt_ him.”

Carl fell backwards. “You’re a demon,” he whispered shakily. “All of you are.”

Foxy laughed lowly. “Maybe.” He sauntered up to Carl, a Line coming from his back to wrap around the fragile neck. The man let out a choked sound. “That’s why ye shouldn’ mess with us.”

“Let go of me,” Carl rasped. He reached to try and get the Line off, but he was yanked up like he weighed nothing. The grip tightened.

As much fun as Foxy was having, he needed to get this man away from Mike. He shoved the man against a tree, grinning widely as his yellow eyes glowed brighter. “Listen ta me very closely,” he said. “If ye ever come near Mikey again, we’ll kill ye. All of us will hunt ye down and kill ye.”

A terrified choke.

“Ye think we’re all just some mindless robots with a bad glitch?” Foxy chuckled lowly. “I can make the choice right now ta break yer neck.” The Line hummed with power as he increased its grip. "And I think I just might."

He heard someone’s shoe scrape against the pavement. Foxy ducked just in time to avoid a fist to the back of his head and dropped Carl. Carl was punched instead, the man dropping to the ground almost instantly. He had passed out.

The woman from before was back. “You idiot, move!” she shouted at Carl.

“Joanne!” Foxy announced. The woman’s head whipped to him. “How’s that leg of yer’s after Chica broke it?”

Joanna let out a wild screech and lunged. Foxy snarled as his hair was grabbed and yanked, her fist coming down against his stomach. He tried to throw her off, but having only one arm made it difficult to pull a crazy lady off of him.

A man came charging from the side. “Get the fuck off of him!” he roared, bringing his fist down onto the attacker’s face.

Joanne let go of Foxy and stumbled back with a pained yell. “Ow! Fuck!” The green eyes were burning brightly behind the mask. “You-!”

The man hit her again across the face. The woman dropped like a sandbag. Foxy let out a near-silent swear and dropped, pretending to faint. He made sure he didn’t hit the ground too hard, but he still winced. He knew his eyes didn’t look normal and his voice wasn’t that of a teenager’s. He had to switch with someone.

Rapid footsteps. “Oh my god! Kid, you okay?”

Foxy kept his eyes shut, loosely so it would look natural. _“Bonnie, are ye there?”_

_“Curtain just shut. What’s happening, we felt Mike panic and you disappear from the pizzeria. Is he okay? Is he hurt?”_

_“He got jumped by some old guards. I fought ‘em off.”_

_“Seriously?”_ Chica’s voice shrilled. _“Is he okay?”_

_“I’ve got him, but I don’ want ta bring him out yet. His arm’s broken.”_

A violent hum through the Lines.

“Kid? Shit! Help, someone call an ambulance!”

_“Bonnie, switch with me! Normal people don’ have yellow eyes.”_

A sputter. _“They don’t have red ones either! Why me?”_

_“Because ye have the voice fer it!”_

_“Let me do it.”_ It was Goldie. He must have been using Mike’s lines. _“I can do pretty good impressions.”_

A pause.

 _“How well are your impressions?”_ Freddy asked.

Foxy nearly choked. Whoever had knocked the one bitch off him was taking his pulse and still calling for help. _“Are ye serious? Him?!”_

_“Foxy, we don’t have a choice. I can’t do it because of my voice.”_

_“He doesn’ have any eyes.”_

_“My old ones were blue. I can replicate them and make it look normal.”_

_“Won’t that take energy? You don’t have a solid body yet,”_ Chica pointed out.

_“Yeah, but we don’t really have a choice. I’m a little more experienced with possession, I can handle it.”_

“Is he dead?” someone whispered.

“I called an ambulance,” someone else said. “They’re on the way.”

“Let me through!” Chris was yelling. “Mike!”

Foxy mentally swore. They didn’t have time to work out the obvious problems. _“Fine. Nothin’ sly.”_

_“Got it. Scoot over, cap.”_

_“Don’ call me that.”_

The switch has fast. Foxy was gone, Goldie taking his place. He kept Mike asleep, making sure to keep the kid under with pleasant memories and warmth. The alive feeling rushed through him, but it was tainted with pain. Goldie groaned. Fuck, everything hurt like hell. The arm was the worst, like someone had set it on fire.

Chris was kneeling next to him. The man who had presumably saved Mike from getting his head beaten in was there, too. There was a crowd at this point.

“Mike? Can you hear me?” Chris asked.

"Jesus, it looks like he's bled a puddle."

"Is that from a nosebleed?"

The janitor sent a fiery glare back at the commentators. They went quiet.

Goldie managed to smile back. His eyes must be normal if no one was freaking out. “Yeah,” he rasped. His voice came out lighter. Not Mike’s pitch, but definitely not his own. “My arm’s broke.”

Chris’s frown grew deeper. “Mike?”

“How do you feel, little man?” the stranger asked.

Goldie looked at him. The stranger’s skin was dark, his eyes a deep brown that were filled with warmth. His hair was done into what seemed to be hundreds of braids, all tied back in a high ponytail. He was wearing a purple t-shirt that was dotted with sweat, headphones around his neck.

 _He’s ripped_ , Goldie absently thought. “Nice hair,” he commented.

The stranger laughed. “Thanks.” He looked at Chris. “Pretty sure doesn’t have a concussion.”

The paramedics arrived. Goldie kept a brave face when he was moved onto the stretcher. Seriously, the kid better be getting good painkillers for that thing.

On the way to the ambulance, Chris glanced at the stranger. The man had decided to come along. “Who are you?” he asked. There was a suspicious note in his tone. Understood, since it seemed like the guy had swooped in out of nowhere.

“Darrius. I jog on this route sometimes.”

“Chris,” the other said.

Darrius looked at Goldie. “How are you holding up, little man?”

 _”He's pretty,”_ Mike’s sleepy voice came through.

Goldie could feel his cheeks becoming pink. That was definitely the kid. _"Go back to sleep, totty."_

Mike faded back to his spot.

_Teenagers._

Had Mike had the talk? Shit, Goldie was not experienced like that. He wasn’t prepared to give that talk. He didn’t even know how it really went. Something about birds and bees, right? He wasn’t sure how that fit into human reproduction, but maybe a bird and bee came along to do something somewhere. Which was weird since some humans were allergic to bees. Was there a substitute? Or was the bird the substitute?

“Fine,” he managed. Goldie was still mentally panicking at the thought of giving Mike a talk. Freddy would have to do that. Freddy knew everything, right?

Darrius smiled at Chris. “He’s so cute. Is he your son?”

“Yes,” Goldie said immediately.

Chris nearly tripped over his own feet with a sputtering sound. He whipped his head to Darrius, hazel eyes wild. “No!” he answered with a short bark. “No, he’s not mine.”

“Oh. I thought he was, with you being all mama bear whenever a crowd formed.”

Chris’s face was burning brightly. “I just look after him.”

Darrius’s face was radiant with sweetness. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great dad.”

Goldie couldn’t help himself. “Chris, can I start calling you dad?” he asked, teasing.

Chris’s expression was that of a stone. He was far from amused.

They got to the ambulance. Goldie went through another round of tests, answering questions – how the fuck was he supposed to know who the president was, he didn’t even know what day it was – and such.

“Where’s Buddy?” Goldie asked, pulling the name from Mike’s mind. He was worried about the dog.

“The truck,” Chris responded. “He’s in the backseat, I’m taking him to the vet.”

Something briefly passed by Goldie’s mind. It wasn’t exactly his thought, but… “Will he die?”

“No.” Chris sounded confident, sure. “I think his leg’s broken, nothing fatal.”

“Aww, poor pup,” Darrius murmured. “Hope he gets better.”

“Buddy’s a sturdy dog. He’ll be fine.” Chris looked at Goldie, eyes narrowed slightly. “And the _kid_ here will be, too.”

_Hey, I didn’t do shit to you, man. I’m just pretending so tater tot here doesn’t wake up to this arm, holy fucking hell someone get me some morphine._

“I should get going.” Darrius waved. “Feel better.” He looked at Chris, then winked. “Bye, Chris.”

If Chris happened to look down a little at Darrius’s form while he was walking away, then that was just a coincidence.

When Chris turned back to Goldie, the hazel eyes were narrowed. “What the fuck?” he mouthed.

Goldie just grinned sheepishly as the ambulance doors shut.

A paramedic patted his shoulder. "If your arm's really broke, at least you'll get a cool cast," he said. "I'd start thinking about what color you want."

Goldie smiled brightly. "Sweet." Then he winced. "Hey, can I shut my eyes for a little bit? I'm a little dizzy."

"As long as you don't fall asleep."

"Got it." Goldie laid his head back and shut his eyes. He seriously was dizzy.

_"Hey, Freddy?"_

_"I'm assuming you're calling to tell us everything's under control?"_

_"Yeah. Chris knows, though. Hey, listen, how much do you know about human reproduction?"_

_"...Why?"_

_"Because I have no clue what birds and bees have to do with him thinking a guy's cute, Freddy! What does it mean?!"_

A long pause. _"I'm going to be honest, I have absolutely no clue how it works."_

 _"Ditto,"_ everyone else responded.

Shit. They were going to have to deal with a emotionally unstable, growing teenager _with_ a broken arm. Why were humans so complicated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just picture Mike with Foxy's voice. That's peak crack humor right there.
> 
> Did Mike have a little bit of a gay moment with Darrius? Yeah. Did Chris have a little bit of a gay moment with Darrius? Yeah. For those who don't know, Chris is actually bi and Mike's gay as fuck. Chris is closeted and Mike doesn't know yet. Darrius is also pretty hot and has a cute charm, it's not a surprise Chris peeked out from the closet for a minute.
> 
> This chapter was a roller-coaster.


	13. Polish and Plushies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an awesome round of cast signing, a wild idea is pitched: Goldie and Scotty surveillance Mike throughout the day as a precaution. What was seemingly a day of fun lookout turned out to be a day of discovering fears and loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, rising from the dead: **screams in creacher** "I LIIIIIIIIIVE!"
> 
> College + already fucked mental state = No 1000. I have either been sick or depressed or both. Now I'm home for winter break and feeling a lot better. Got this out just in time for the holidays (it's midnight where I am; Merry Crisis)
> 
> But holy shit, there's so much fanart.
> 
> Rainb0we drew the animatronics cuddling with a little baby Mikey bean (I actually cried, I was so touched), and now Freddy has a canon tooth gap because she drew him with one and I love it, she drew a bust of Mike, she drew sleepy Freddy holding a sleeping Mike (AAAAAA), and a Snom (even if she doesn't like the little bugger that much). She drew some art of her big dorky characters comforting me on our messages (nearly cried lol), so certain ones aren't available to the public. She's decided to revamp her AU, but you can find the art on my tumblr if it's not on hers anymore. She also drew a "Christmas special" with Wade (her Withered Freddy) and Freddy (with gekkering Foxy and Frazier) that is the greatest thing ever and my human GoldSpring 😭
> 
> Mangleschmidt drew a badass picture of Foxy possessing Mike (that background tho) and damn is it spicy 👀 Also got Mike hanging out with Gonta Gokuhara (Danganronpa V3 character, she's into that so much) which is super cute because they're both dorks and beans. We got Were!Mike hanging out with Gonta, sleepy Freddy with color palate, human Foxy. I don't want to spoil anything on her end, but she let me see a sneak peek of a WIP she had and one of the characters is human!Freddy 👀
> 
> Mazanica drew Foxy with a crop-top (I spoiled their outfits on tumblr, I couldn't help it aaaaaa)
> 
> Princearu37 drew a textured Mike, my Mike hanging out with hers on a rainy day, Mike dressed up in little Freddy and Foxy outfits, a BABY MIKEY HOLY CHEEZITS HE'S SO CUTE IN HIS LITTLE BOOTIES AND AHAHSJSG, Foxy possessing Mike and being a cheeky bastard. Mike with a moon background and Mike with some space themes. This isn't FNAF related, but she was so sweet and drew a little picture of her hugging me after I vented a really bad experience/day on tumblr 💕 She also made Mike a pixelated boi, and I love pixel art so much like y'all don't understand.
> 
> Mikespizzeria made two Mike's, one with a ponytail and dyed hair and a normal bean!
> 
> Buff-fluffy-bear-boi drew Freddy and Goldie in their style (which is so s o f t) being cute with some of their OCs. They also drew me being comforted by my Freddy, Teddy (Toy Freddy), Barry (Funtime Freddy), and Brody (Nightmare Freddy), I melted to a puddle. They drew baby Were!Mike, Were!Mike being carried by a Were!Foxy, Foxy holding a baby Were!Mike, a headshot of Mike as a werewolf, human versions of Goldie and Spring being cute, Goldie and Spring being cute, Barry (Funtime Freddy) in a dress, a Snom, and Spring with his new Springtrap look!
> 
> Just so much appreciation to these peeps 💕💕💕💕💕💕 Sorry if I've missed anything or anyone, the tagging system on tumblr is really bad and my brain is horrible at remembering stuff. Go check their blogs!
> 
> I've been getting a lot of asks on tumblr about the AU and seeing all the comments/kudos here and like I'm so happy I'm interacting with you all so much. I love hearing from y'all. Remember, the best updates about things that are happening are on my tumblr. Sorry you all had to wait so long, but thank you all for being patient. Quick warning: We're delving into some angst here, so be cautious.

“…There!” Bonnie chirped. “My name’s down!”

Mike looked down at his cast. It was bright blue and harder than a rock. Freddy’s name was in dark blue and Bonnie’s name was in dark purple. He wasn’t sure when they had found out that it was a tradition to sign a cast, but it felt nice. The Millers had separately signed it along with Chris. Buddy’s name was on it as well.

“My turn!” Chica proclaimed. She had a bright yellow marker.

Mike reached and took another cookie from his plate. Chica had made a whole batch of chocolate chip ones and so far Mike had eaten the most.

It had been a day since the attack. There were a few inside cops in the department, so the situation was being handled with the firmest hand imaginable. Neither Carl and Joanne were saying a thing, though Carl was close to cracking apparently. Whoever had taken the video wasn’t coming forward.

Buddy’s vet bill was covered by the Company. The dog had a broken leg and was going to be in a cast just like Mike for the next few weeks. With painkillers and lots of treats, Buddy was already spoiled rotten in his bedrest. His cast had already been signed by the girls and their friends. A few friends of the Millers even got Buddy some toys. Mike hadn’t been expecting to get cards from friends of the family. He hadn’t known he came up in conversations, so it was a surprise to be getting cards and even flowers. The neighbors even came over to see how Mike and Buddy were doing, and Mike found that his cheeks were very squishy in Carlene’s hands. 

“Ye’re in that fer six weeks?” Foxy asked, brow raised. Bones didn’t take that long to heal, right?

“Yeah,” Mike responded, sighing. “It’s so dumb.”

Foxy wilted a little. "Sorry I wasn' there earlier, Mikey," he apologized. If he had just thought faster...

Mike shrugged. "That lady was going to break something whether you were there or not. I think she took something."

"Honestly? My exact thoughts."

“Hopefully we can speed up that process by a few days,” Freddy said. “We’d heal it right away, but…”

“We think that if we heal it too fast, it could cause some damage,” Bonnie said. “That’s why it hurt a lot when we were healing your soul, because we were doing it all at once and not a little at a time. We need to heal it slowly so your body can keep up with it.”

That sounded fair. Still, it was annoying. The cast was heavy and sort of itchy.

“There we go,” Chica said. She signed her name off with a little heart.

Foxy grabbed the red marker. “Bear with my writin’ skills, Mikey,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

“You can actually write quite well,” Freddy commented.

A snort. “Yeah, ye can make out letters.”

Foxy’s name was actually well-spelled. He doodled a little skull with crossbones next to his name.

“See? Your writing’s fine,” Freddy said.

“My turn!” Goldie exclaimed. A Line stretched from his right ear and grabbed a green marker. “Bear with me.”

“You sure you can do that?” Bonnie asked. Mike couldn’t help but feel a little joyful at the fact that Bonnie was directly talking to Goldie.

Goldie stuck out his fake tongue out in concentration. It was hard to aim. “I’m trying my best here, cut me some slack.”

Mike hummed, thinking. “You could use my arm,” he said.

Goldie blinked. “Are you sure? I don’t want to give you a nosebleed.”

The teen shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Through the connection they shared, Goldie moved. The eyes in the suit head went dark. Mike felt the intrusion, felt himself being shoved back. He wouldn’t mind a doze anyways.

 _“Hang on,”_ Goldie said. _“Let me try something, totty.”_

Mike found himself being compressed, squished in his own body. Goldie’s soul was next to his, humming brightly and brushing against his gently. It felt warm, stronger than before. It was certainly bigger, something that Mike noted with a pang of relief.

“There.” Goldie’s voice came out of his mouth. “Really didn’t thing that’d work!”

Mike blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re sharing, totty!”

Mike’s right eye had turned a dark shade of blue while the other remained the same. There was no nosebleeds or anything, just a slight compression that was easy to ignore.

“Oh, wow,” they both said in unison. “This is weird.”

“You’re both there?” Bonnie gaped, eyes wide and curious.

“Yeah,” they said again. The mismatched blue eyes looked in different directions. “This is really weird.”

Chica made a sound. “Eww, look in the same direction!”

Their eyes focused. “Sorry,” they apologized.

“Wow, that hurts! I can feel the break!” Goldie exclaimed, taking over for a moment. “No wonder you need those painkillers!”

“Goldie,” Mike said, taking back his mouth.

“Alright, alright, I’m on it.”

Goldie writing with Mike’s hand went smoother than anyone thought. The dot above the ‘i’ was made to look like a flower with petals. It looked cute. Mike wasn’t sure if the burst of joy he felt was from him or Goldie.

“And… Done! Thanks, totty!” The dark blue eye went to Scotty. “Scotty, swap!”

They switched, the compressed feeling remaining. Mike’s right eye faded to an ashy grey. Scotty’s soul was healthy as well, humming gently and warm.

“Oh, geez!” Scotty squeaked. “I-I-I forgot what having a heartbeat felt like. That scared the daylights out of me!”

Mike took control of the mouth to smile sheepishly. Everyone else looked at each other uncomfortably.

When Scotty’s name was written down in bright silver, Mike finally got sole control of his body back. Dizziness passed over him at the feel of being left, his soul giving a small shudder. It was almost like it felt sad.

Mike rubbed his head. “That’s still weird, but…” He frowned, feeling concerned at himself. “Was it weird that I felt really comfortable? Like, having a soul right next to mine?”

“Not at all!” Scotty chirped. “Goldie and I share his body, our souls are pretty close. We enjoy it.”

“It’s like having a sleepover that never ends. I love it.” Goldie smiled brightly. “You should try it more often. We think it helps make the soul stronger.”

Bonnie looked at Freddy. “That’s not a bad thing to test,” he said.

“Something for later, I suppose. Speaking of tests, there’s something I wanted to bring up.” Freddy looked at Mike. “Michael, what happened yesterday was incredibly dangerous and you walked away with a broken arm and bruises. I think you need someone to be with you for a while, at least until things die down.”

‘Things die down’ was a nice way of putting the fact that a former guard essentially had some kind of hit out on Mike. He frowned. “Chris will be with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure where this was going. “He didn’t know that the car alarm was a trap.”

“We know, but with the discovery behind Scotty’s death and now former guards around, we don’t want to risk anything.” Freddy looked at Goldie. “We thought it’d be best if Goldie and Scotty tagged along with you, just for a little while.”

“Wait, really?” The teen looked at them surprised. “When did you guys talk about this?”

“Like, an hour ago,” Chica answered. She didn’t seem as on the fence about it as Mike thought she would be.

“We’re onboard!” Goldie chirped.

The temperature seemed to drop on Mike’s right. Scotty smiled at him. His figure was less transparent, his colorful patches more visible. “Wouldn’t hurt to get out beyond the place for a bit,” he said.

Mike just shrugged. “I mean, sure, but how am I going to be moving you guys?”

Goldie wiggled his ears. “I’m lighter than a feather, totty.”

Chris showed up at six, right on time as usual. Mike was thankful for his powers when lifting Goldie, because Scotty was right about the head being heavy. Freddy had offered to help, but Mike didn’t want to risk anyone seeing him in the early hours of the morning and having the police called. His Lines remained steady as he carried Goldie out, his good arm barely feeling the weight of the bear head.

The others sent him off with some snacks in his bag and some quick hugs. Mike’s face had already been a faint pink for the entire night. Everyone had been coddling him and as much as he felt like a child, it was…nice. It made him think of the times he stayed at the pizzeria overnight, when the others would double down on their affection and carry him around most of the time. 

When Mike opened the passenger side, Chris just stared.

Goldie winked at Chris. “You come here often?”

“…Put him in the trunk.”

“Wait, I’ll shut up.”

Goldie ended up going in the backseat behind Mike. The seatbelt was a loss cause since Mike didn’t want to crush Goldie’s face and Goldie was positive he’d be fine. Chris just snorted at the image of Mike buckling a bear head into the seat.

“I thought you were joking,” Chris said when Mike got into the passenger seat.

“I thought they were too, but they were all dead serious,” Goldie chimed in. He wiggled a little. “These seats are cold.”

“Yeah, no one sits back there.” Chris shuddered. He turned up the heat. “Jesus, it’s cold in here.”

“Sorry,” Scotty said next to Goldie. Mike wasn’t sure when he could hear Scotty without using his powers, but the spirit’s words were getting louder and louder with each passing day and they were starting to sound like a normal speaking voice. “My bad.”

“It’s Scotty,” Mike said. “He said he’s sorry.”

Chris blinked. He looked in the back. “Where is he?”

“Behind your seat.” Mike looked at where Scotty would be sitting. Come to think of it, Scotty had a little outline now, too. Mike noticed it, but it didn’t seem like Chris did when he looked back.

The janitor seemed to take in a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said quietly, straightened in his seat.

Mike looked back at Scotty. “Do you wanna…?”

Scotty’s outline jolted. “W-wait, really? You sure?”

The teen shrugged. “Yeah, go for it.”

“What are you all plotting?” Chris asked flatly.

“I’m innocent. I’d put my hands up, but I don’t have any,” Goldie said.

Before Chris could say anything to him, Mike shuddered in his seat. The hazel eyes darted over to him to see Mike looking at him, his left eye the same as always and the other an ashy grey.

Scotty smiled at him. It was more of his than Mike’s. “Hello, hello, Chris,” he greeted.

Chris managed a small, fragile smile. “Hey, Scotty.” He looked on the verge of breaking.

“Mike’s been going on an awful lot about he wants you as his dad.”

Chris choked on his breath. Mike ripped back control, his face becoming bright red. “Did not!” he shrieked.

Scotty took control of their voice, laughing.

The smile on Chris’s face was genuine. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“It’s only been a few months. Worried I was gonna become a demon or something?”

“No, you’re too nice.” Chris pulled out of the parking lot. “And annoying.”

“Hey!”

The ride home was nice. Scotty was mostly in control of Mike’s body, the boy chiming in occasionally. Goldie was fairly chatty despite having just met Chris, which had Mike feeling more hopeful about things. If Chris could warm up to Goldie, then the others would eventually as well. He was mostly content for the ride, Scotty going back and forth with Chris.

Mike was so shocked to hear Chris laugh so much.

They pulled up to the Miller house.

“Are you going to stick around?” Chris asked, referring to Scotty.

“If Mike let’s me.” Scotty frowned. “Hope I’m not doing too much on him, this is the first time I’ve really possessed another person before.”

“I’m okay,” Mike said, taking control of their mouth. “I’m not hurting or anything.

“That’s good. Was worried I was doing exactly that.”

Mike and Scotty grabbed Goldie’s head from the backseat. “So, you told Logan and Petunia I was bringing Goldie, right?” Mike asked.

There was a long pause. “…I thought they were joking, remember?”

Bringing in a giant talking animatronic bear head wasn’t going to be a pleasant surprise for anything.

Petunia was in the dining room, holding a steaming cup. She was dressed casually, a loose green robe over her nightgown. Her hair was mussed, the curls untamed from sleep. It was so weird seeing her so…normal. She was always poised and kept, and seeing her in such casual fashion had Mike pausing.

 _“That’s not even the worst of her bedhead.”_ Scotty’s voice echoed in his head. _“It can get even worse.”_

Mike snickered.

“I’m wondering what’s so funny at this early in the morning.” Petunia glanced over. The sleepy greens widened. “Oh, I wasn’t aware we were getting a visitor.”

Goldie smiled brightly. “Hey, Greensleeves!”

She rolled her eyes, her smiled amused. “Hello, Goldie. Are you here to be the table centerpiece?”

“If there’s an opening, absolutely.”

Mike set the head on the table. Goldie was looking around the room. “Nice place.”

Petunia looked at Mike. “How was your night, honey pie?” she asked. “Aside from bringing a friend home.” She paused. “Mike, why is your one eye…?”

“Grey?” Mike smiled, sheepish. “I brought another friend home.”

“What…?”

“Hello, hello, Petunia!” Scotty’s voice sang cheerfully.

Petunia’s cup dropped harder than her mouth. It shattered over the flooring with a sharp _crash_.

Mike and Scotty winced. “Sorry!” they both exclaimed. Lines filtered from their wrists and went to the mess. “We’ll get it!” A Line widened; the shards swept onto it, the Line cupping.

“Petunia?” Logan was coming down the stairs. His bedhead was just as bad, his loose t-shirt and baggy pants rumpled. “What was that sound?”

Mike felt a twinge of regret, scaring Petunia like that, but Scotty held control of their mouth. “Hello, hello, Logan!” the man chirped, turning their body.

Logan gaped at him, freezing. “Scotty?” His voice was small.

He nodded. “Yeah. Mike’s, uh, letting me share for a bit.” He shifted. “It’s um, a bit awkward, huh?”

Scotty wasn’t expecting to be grabbed and yanked into a hug. He let out a startled yelp, his eyes going between blue and grey. Mike was quiet. Logan was holding him tightly, face buried into his hair. Petunia was suddenly there as well, her cheek against the dark hair and her arm tight around his back. They were both clinging to him, their breathing quiet and heavy.

Scotty slowly lifted his arms to hug back. It was so strange feeling the warmth of another human again like this, to be in a smaller body as well. “I’m back,” he murmured. “I’m back.”

\- - - - -

Mike set Goldie down on the other pillow. He still felt a little woozy after Scotty separated from him.

“Ooh, this is cozy.” Goldie shifted with a small grunt. “Thanks, totty!

The teen smiled as he pulled up the covers. “Do you want a blanket?”

“Really? I mean, that’d be really cool if I could have one.”

Scotty sat down on the edge of the bed. Mike looked at him while grabbed another blanket off the bed. He was still outlined, just like he was in the back of the truck. “I can see you pretty well,” he said. “Is it just me?”

“I guess so.” Scotty shifted. “You doing okay? You stumbled a little up the stairs.”

“I’m fine, just a little dizzy.” Mike tucked the base of the sheet around Goldie. The head would have nearly completely covered if the ears weren’t perked. “Is that okay?”

“Hell yeah, I have my own fort!” Goldie lowered his ears, the blanket covering most of his face. “What’s the password?”

Mike snickered. “Cheese.”

Goldie’s ears perked, the blanket jostling. “How do you know me so well?” he asked, teasing.

“Because when I was cleaning you, you kept talking about how you think the moon’s made of cheese.” The teen flopped back on the bed. “Scotty, where are you going to sleep?”

“I’m not really tired honestly, not after sharing your body. I, uh, just think I’ll float around a bit.” Scotty smiled breezily, floating upwards. “I’ll see you when you wake up, champ.”

Goldie scoffed as the spirit disappeared through the ceiling. “Showoff.” He looked at Mike. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“No idea. I’m usually just told what’s going on. Maybe another walk in the park or something.”

“Can I come with you?” The white pupils were big. It was Goldie was starstruck with the idea. “Please?”

Mike’s smile was soft. “Sure.”

“Sweet! I haven’t seen the sun in years, you know? I hope it’s just amazing as it used to be; nice and warm!” A reminiscent sigh. “I used to lay outside in the grass for hours just to sunbathe. Just watching the clouds go by with Spring…”

Almost immediately he stopped talking. Mike was staring at him, eyes shiny with a soft frown.

Goldie’s ears drooped, his smile wilting. He let out an embarrassed cough. “How about you get some sleep, totty?” he suggested, his voice meek.

Mike didn’t say anything else. He felt a warm numbness as he got under the covers.

When they woke up later, just a few minutes apart, Logan had left for the vet with Buddy and Petunia had taken the girls to a friend’s house. Mike stretched and yawned. Goldie did the same thing, though the only stretch he could do was an ear wiggle.

“Mike!” Chris called. “Get dressed, we’re going to get you clothes that aren’t from Logan’s school days!”

The teen groaned. He looked at Goldie. “You sleep okay?”

“The best I’ve slept in years!” The white dots in the empty sockets seemed to be smiling. “This is the comfiest pillow ever!”

Mike smiled. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Scotty?”

“Downstairs,” Goldie said matter-of-factly. “He was probably chilling with Buddy. You know dogs have a keen sense when it comes to spirits?”

Mike hesitantly looked at him. “No?” It was a question.

“Yeah, they go crazy when Scotty goes by. Not sure how they know.” Goldie’s ears flicked. “So when’s that walk in the park?”

“Probably later after I get some clothes. I hope Chris isn’t going to make me pick out a bunch of stuff.” The thought had Mike’s soul squirming with discomfort. He wasn’t used to receiving necessities like this.

The white pupils seemed to disappear when they shrank to nearly nothing. “You’re leaving me?” Goldie’s voice was small.

Mike frowned. “I’ll be back,” he said.

“Yeah, but there’s going to be no one here? Like, anyone at all? I’ll be alone?” There was growing panic.

“Logan will be back with Buddy soon,” Mike said carefully. “It’s not for long.”

That didn’t soothe Goldie’s worries. “Mike, totty, please someone has to be here with me. I can’t be alone, I can’t!” The head trembled. “I can’t handle being alone.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “I thought…”

“No one knows I’m in there.” Goldie’s ears folded down, like he was trying to keep something out. Ink dribbled from his sockets, soaking his cheeks and sheets. “I’m alone. Now one knows I’m here.”

Mike felt his heart stop. “Goldie?” He reached and grasped the soft fur. “Goldie?”

“I’m here. I’m here, please just let me out.” The white dots were darting around wildly, filled with panic. “I’m not him, I’m not him, I swear I’m not him. Please let me out, I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, _it wasn’t me!_ ”

The teen curled over Goldie, on the verge of tears as he gripped the head tightly. It was easy to forget that Goldie had been through so much with how easy-going he was about everything. Abandoned in the backroom with no way to move, used as a symbol to murder helpless children, being a coffin to one of those children, trying his hardest to appeal to people his presence hurt…

Mike gasped and jerked backwards. It felt like something had zipped into his chest. It was cold and spreading like fire. He coughed, his eyes watering.

“O-oh, fuck.” Goldie had taken control of the eyes, the darkened orbs darting around. “Fuck, what happened?”

“You went somewhere else for a sec,” Mike responded, still breathless. The left eye lightened to a gentle blue. “I think I just transferred you into me or something.”

“Oh.” Guilt spread throughout their chest. “Sorry, totty, I didn’t mean to scare you. “Totty, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Mike took back control, shaking his head. “It’s okay; honest.” He stretched, wincing at the coldness that came with his back popping. “So you’re going to follow me?”

“Us,” Goldie gently corrected, quiet.

The smaller soul rolled and pulsed gently. Mike smiled when he felt Goldie’s soul loosen from its tight ball.

Chris wasn't surprised when he noticed the obvious change of Mike's eyes. He just sighed.

Mike didn’t realize they had stopped until he felt the sunlight on their face when he stepped outside. Goldie had taken the most control, tilting their head up towards the sun and smiling. He could feel the joy surging through Goldie’s soul, the feeling making Mike’s spark and spin.

_Freedom._

“Hey, you two can go be weird and be flowers in the middle of a field somewhere else!” Chris shouted from the truck. “Get in, it’s running!”

Mike tripped over their feet when Goldie yanked back his control. “Sorry,” the bear mumbled.

The car ride fascinated Goldie. Mike let him take control of their vision to look around and out the window. It was sad that Goldie hadn’t seen the sun in however long he was back in the sealed room, but Mike tried to look at the positives; he was out now. He could feel the other soul glowing and spinning with warmth and excitement, and it was another reminder of how much this, everything, was worth it. It would take time for things to come together, but it would happen eventually.

The mall was daunting when they pulled into the parking lot. Mike was glad Goldie had taken control of their legs for the most part, because he was positive he’d buckle under the looming building and the hundreds of people inside.

“Honestly, the more I think about this, the more I like this idea.” Chris glanced at them as he shut the truck door. “If we ever get separated, at least you’ll have a better chance at _not_ breaking something else.”

A nervous laugh escaped Mike. Scotty gently patted his shoulder. “We’ll be in and out in no time, champ,” the man assured.

Mike couldn’t help but cling to Chris’s arm, something nobody commented on. Chris apparently knew exactly where they were shopping with how precise he was with directions, and Mike was thankful that there was some familiarity with the place. He had never been in the mall, any mall, before. It was too big of a risk.

“It’s okay, Mike,” Chris murmured. He reached and patted the boy’s head. “We’re not taking long, just a few minutes and then we’ll grab something to eat before we leave.”

That sounded like a plan.

The store they went into was nice, nothing filled to the brim with people like Mike was fearing. It wasn’t exactly a high time to be buying clothes yet.

“Things here are pretty cheap but not complete shit,” Chris said. “Just pick out some stuff you like and you can try them on.”

Mike shuffled, his grip on Chris’s arm becoming a slight bit tighter. “I don’t…”

Chris’s expression softened. “You can try them on at home. Anything that doesn’t fit I’ll return.”

“I’m so glad he’s a softie again,” Scotty said quietly from the side.

They wandered around the store. Mike was mostly interested in things that covered, but not just because of the comforting feeling of being hidden. He liked sweaters and such, what with the feeling of safety and warmth they gave. Chris didn’t say much about his focus, but there were a few times he nudged Mike towards thinner clothing that wouldn’t have him sweating in the summer.

“You can’t just wear sweaters all the time,” the man told him as they turned around aisle. He was carrying a small basket of clothes Mike had picked. “You’ll get heat stroke and then who will I have to get ice cream with me?”

Mike managed a weak smile. He felt drained and open. He opened his mouth to say something, but the unmistakable shade of blue in the corner of his eye ripped his attention away from the conversation.

 _“What?”_ Goldie asked.

Amanda was going through some clothes on a rack. They caught her eye before Mike could even suggest to Chris that they move to a different aisle.

“Oh!” She set the shirt back on the rack. “Mike, Chris, how are you doing?”

Chris glanced at Mike. “A conversation isn’t going to kill you.” He turned back to Amanda. “Hey. I’d say I’m good, but Mike…”

Her eyes went to his arm. She gaped. “When was this?!”

“Yesterday. He got jumped by some people, but he’s sturdy.”

“This hardly looks sturdy.”

Mike looked at his cast. “It’s been signed,” he mumbled.

Amanda pulled a dark blue pen out of her pocket. “May I?”

Her name was in neat cursive, a curvy flower vine underlining it.

 _“She’s got good writing,”_ Goldie murmured inside of their head.

Amanda popped the cap back on her pen. “So what are you two doing here on such a nice day?” she asked.

“We’re getting Mike some new clothes and stuff. He just moved out of his apartment.”

Her face lit up. “That’s great news! You’re inching into a better life, Mike, that’s a great start.”

The pale cheeks glowed pink. “I guess.”

“Any start’s a great start.” She then paused and looked at Chris. “Speaking of starts, do you think you could help me carry some things to my car? I have some things at the pet shop waiting for me and they don’t let you take carts from the store. If you can, that is.”

Chris blinked almost owlishly. “I guess.” He looked at Mike. “How about you scope out that ice cream shop again? We’ll grab some when I’m done helping Amanda.”

If they had a tail, they’d be wagging it. “Sure!” Mike and Goldie chirped, grinning. They were already turning and jogging towards where they had seen it.

Amanda chuckled. “He seems like he’s doing just fine.”

Chris sighed, but there was a smile on his face. “Yeah.”

It was barely a minute after they left the store before Mike took control of their mouth. “That was so weird,” he mumbled after a moment. “Seeing my therapist in public.”

“How’s that weird?” Goldie asked. “Are they, like, supposed to chill in their burrows until nighttime? Are therapists a separate species of human?”

The teen snickered. “No.” He huffed. “It’s like if you saw your teacher in public or something.”

“Seeing them in a different environment other than the one you always see them in,” Scotty supplied. Mike could hear the knowing look. “Yeah, it’s a little awkward.”

“At least she didn’t actually embarrass you or anything. It’s better than her saying ‘hey, he said he eats pickles at three in the morning and dances around the kitchen’ or something,” Goldie said, grinning.

Mike and Scotty paused.

“That’s not an admission to anything.”

Mike managed a quick smile. “I’m just wondering what we’re going to talk about when I see her later.”

“How’s the therapy going anyways?” Goldie asked.

The teen shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

A beat of silence between them.

Scotty sighed. “I can’t stay quiet anymore. Mike, you know I was there.”

Mike felt his insides freeze and crack. He had so desperately wanted to believe that it was just a draft, but it really had been Scotty. He didn’t know why the spirit had been in his room, all he knew was that he had been caught.

“Whenever I check in on you, you’re hurting yourself one way or another.” Scotty’s colors seemed to become bleaker. “You’re not telling anyone.”

“Don’t tell,” Mike blurted quietly. His eyes darted around to see if anyone was looking at him. No one was, but it felt like it. He felt exposed. “Please. I’m getting better, I promise.”

“Mike, what you’re doing doesn’t sound you’re getting better, that sounds like you’re trying to avoid getting caught.”

“Because I’ll get in trouble,” the teen hissed quietly. “E-everyone’ll be so mad.”

“They love you, Mike,” Goldie said, taking brief control of the mouth. “They know how hard this is for you. They won’t be mad.”

“Really?” The word dripped with sarcasm.

Scotty’s face pinched with concern. “You said you trusted them, right?”

The teen gritted his teeth. “That has nothing to do with this.”

“It does. If you trust them enough like you said, then you’ll trust them enough to understand.”

Mike said nothing.

“If you don’t tell anyone, I will.” Mike whipped his head towards Scotty, betrayal painted across his features. “Mike, this is incredibly damaging to you. This isn’t healthy. I shouldn’t even be giving you this option, but I know how hard this is for you.”

“I have to agree with him, totty,” Goldie murmured. Mike recoiled inside of their body. “I’m sorry, but I’m really scared for you, okay?”

“Can we talk about something else? Please?” Mike couldn’t feel his fingers from how hard they were gripping his sling.

Scotty sighed. “Just think about what we said, okay?” He paused. “What else do you want to talk about?”

A pause. “…Chris said you had a family.”

“…I did.” Scotty’s form became dim, more transparent. “Yeah.”

Mike watched him for a minute. “What were they like?”

Some color lit up the faint form. “Everything I could ever ask for.”

They listened as Scotty went on about his family, about his daughter and sons and wife. He rambled and bounced, going between reminiscent highs and depressing lows. He went on about how he wished he could’ve been there more for them, how he could’ve made events and parties more, how he could’ve had a night where he wasn’t banishing himself to the couch to let his wife sleep while he had constant nightmares and insomnia.

It only made the nagging fear in the back of Mike’s head about the animatronics tap at his skull again. He swore his scar was aching.

“I’d give anything to see Holly again. And the kids…”

Mike could feel Goldie’s soul gently pulsing, giving off small waves of guilt and sympathy. His own felt heavy and like it had pins stuck in it.

“Thanks for letting me ramble about them,” Scotty said after a moment. “I just… It hurts thinking about them.”

Mike just nodded.

They paused by a shop when Mike saw nail polish in the window. Orange nail polish stuck out on one of the racks, shiny and bright. It was the exact same shade of Miss Lady’s, but a different and much better brand.

“Totty.” Goldie’s voice came through his lips quietly. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

Mike ignored him and went in. He would get something for Petunia, too.

Miss Lady didn’t want or need him anymore, but Mike still clung to that hope that maybe she’d come around. He took the bag and left the store after they were bagged, slipping the tiny bag into his pocket so Chris wouldn’t see them. He was sure that he’d get berated for even thinking of her.

A few minutes into more aimless wandering, Goldie pulled their body to a stop. Mike was suddenly taken out of the driver’s seat. _“What?”_ the teen asked, his voice echoing in their head.

“Mike, can I get that yellow bunny doll?”

“What?” It was so surprising he felt his brain stall.

His head was turned to a toy store. There were plush toys displayed in the window, rabbit ones. Mike looked at the doll closer. It wasn’t anything special, just a plain bunny plush that happened to be yellow. There were ones in other colors, too.

“Why?” Mike asked, curious. “I mean, yeah, but why do you want it?”

Goldie said nothing.

“Does it have to do with where you were from?”

“Yeah,” came the quiet answer.

Mike didn’t press or bring up the name Goldie had let slip earlier. “Okay.”

He let Goldie pick it out. He hid that in his pocket as well after paying for it. He felt the bear’s control falter, the feeling giving him an uncomfortably tight feeling in his chest. Their hand was in their pocket, squeezing the doll and rolling fabric between their fingers. Scotty remained quiet

Chris was by the ice cream shop. He turned when they came up, brow raised. “Where’d you go?” he asked.

Mike shrugged. “Wandered.”

Goldie took control to give a cheeky smirk. “You have fun with your girlfriend?”

Chris scowled, a slight rise in his cheeks. Mike mentally kicked the other.

With their ice cream in cups, they left the mall. Mike had to keep Goldie from stopping them in the middle of the parking lot to feel the light of the sun. Chris loaded the bags into the backseat.

“Tarantulas,” Chris mumbled. “She’s got giant fucking spiders. She needed help getting a new enclosure to her car.”

“I thought I told you that,” Mike said, raising a brow.

“Yeah, but you didn’t go into detail.” Chris huffed, but he was smiling. “Never thought I’d meet a woman who has tarantulas, let alone likes spiders.”

Goldie giggled in their head.

They pulled out of the parking lot. Mike set aside his ice cream to reach into the backseat for his bag. He slipped a small sketchbook from it. Logan had given it to him, saying they had plenty to go around for the girls and that it was a good way for Mike to vent his frustrations if he wasn’t feeling like talking. He hadn’t used it for that, but at least he was using it. He flicked it open.

“What’re you doing?”

Goldie’s voice had him nearly jumping through the roof. Mike jerked away the sketch pad. “It’s a surprise!” he hissed. He forgot Goldie was there with how quiet the bear had been.

“But I wanna see!” the bear whined.

“Keep the crying to a minimal in the truck,” Chris drawled. He didn’t spare them a glance.

 _“Come on, totty!”_ Mike winced at Goldie’s echoing voice in his skull. _“Please?”_

The teen sighed, flipping back the sketchpad. _“Fine.”_

Goldie’s eyes darted over the page. _“Ooh! You’re getting us clothes?! Like ‘us’ as in everyone?! Because I’d love to have clothes!”_

Mike smiled. _“Yeah, I think it’d be a nice change. Almost like a fresh start, you know?”_ He sighed. _“I can’t draw really well, so I’m trying to picture them.”_

_“I can do it.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yeah, I’m pretty good at drawing! Scooch over, totty!”_

Mike watched in awe as Goldie drew, their left hand flying across the page. The sketches became drawings, ones that were way too detailed to be just little doodles. The teen was in complete awe. He didn’t expect the other to be a full-fledged artist.

“You’re…really good at drawing,” Mike managed to say, gaping.

Goldie chuckled, sheepish. His cheeks glowed with color. “I did it a lot when I could move.” He set the pencil aside. “What’d you think?”

It looked perfect, better than Mike had imagined the outfits. He felt a surge of pride, one from his own soul and not Goldie’s, though he felt that as well.

_“Wow.”_

An echoing chuckle. _“Eventually. So from what I can see… Vests and dress pants for me and Freddy, nice and dapper. A leather cut-off jacket for Bonnie, he’s going to be a dorky greaser. Bell-bottom jeans, a sweater, a sparkly vest for Chica, nice and funky. A…”_ Goldie paused, snickering. _“A crop-top for Foxy, but I’m trusting your judgement. He’s getting that with a cloak and jewelry. That’s the rundown?”_

_“Yeah.”_

“Damn!” Goldie exclaimed out loud. “Better enjoy my nakedness while it lasts.”

Chris didn’t even glance back. “Not going to ask.”

Scotty just snickered.

They pulled up to the house. Logan wasn’t home yet, but Petunia was. She was sitting in the living room when they walked in.

“Just in time!” Petunia lifted up a doll. “Where’s Scotty?”

The spirit floated by the couch. “What do you have, fireball?”

The doll was dressed in a small hoodie and loose pants. Its hair, stretching just under his neck, was a dark hickory brown, the eyes an ashy grey. Its left ear was pierced with a small black button.

“Is that me?!” Scotty’s image wavered. “You gave it my piercing?”

Mike and Goldie whipped their head to him. “You have a piercing?!” they both exclaimed.

Nervous laughter. “Y-yeah. I, uh, hide it under my hair.”

Petunia grinned slyly. “I thought it’d be a good idea for Scotty to have his own body so he and Goldie can have some privacy.”

“Great! We’re going to have a haunted doll running around the house!” Chris yelled from the kitchen.

Scotty examined it. “Wow,” he wheezed. “That’s… T-that’s accurate.”

Petunia frowned. “Does he like it?” she asked.

“I love it! I-I just…” The spirit looked at them. “Goldie?”

Goldie smiled at him. “Have some fun, pal.”

Scotty looked at them for another moment, pausing, then touched the doll. His form seemed to be pulled into it, Scotty’s unsure frown remaining even as he became distorted. It was like a breath of air being released when he completely slipped inside, the doll giving a small shudder.

“Did he go in?” Petunia asked. She was watching the doll closely with wide eyes.

“Yeah.” Mike and Goldie leaned forward. “Scotty?”

A high shriek erupted from the speaker. Petunia let out a startled yelp, Mike and Goldie jumping a mile. “T-t-this is awesome!” Scotty bolted to his plastic feet and started jumping up and down. “Look at me!”

The woman chuckled, grinning. “You like?”

“Yes!” He looked at Mike and Goldie. His expressions were limited with the materials, but it was obvious he was over the moon. “You guys have to try this!”

“How about you keep being the guinea pig and then we’ll talk?” Goldie suggested, cheeky. “This was just a bonus for the trip over, you know.”

“And what’s the reason you came over to my domain?” Petunia smiled, amused and breezy. “Other than to say hello.”

They held up the sketchbook. “This.”

“What do you have there?”

“Clothes!” Mike and Goldie exclaimed at once, grinning. They set the sketchpad down on the table. “Do you think these look good for the animatronics?”

Petunia picked the sketchpad up and looked over it. Surprise fluttered across her face. “These are really well drawn,” she commented.

They were both the cause of the blushing. “That was Goldie,” Mike said softly.

“Mike came up with the designs! He’s really good at that, I couldn’t think of anything!” Goldie chimed in, taking back control of the mouth.

“Well, you’re both certainly talented in your own ways. These are very beautiful sketches and designs; I think these are great.” Petunia looked over them again, smiling. “I think I can find enough material. These are the right measurements?”

“Yeah. I used the suits in the back. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” Mike frowned. “Goldie knows, though.”

“I won’t say a word, promise and swear on the cheese in the moon,” Goldie chirped.

Petunia raised a brow. “I don’t think there’s cheese on the moon.”

“Let a man dream.”

“Just because I don’t think there’s cheese doesn’t mean there _isn’t_ , Goldie. Now, about the crop-top… I’m surprised to see the boldness with his clothing since he doesn’t act all bold around me. I was expecting something soft, like a sweater with a puppy on it.”

Mike snickered.

They left the sketchpad with Petunia, taking the bag of Mike’s clothes and the plush doll upstairs. Scotty remained downstairs on the table. Chris was on the phone with Logan; something about calling a doctor from what he could make out.

The bags were set against the wall of the bedroom. Neither had enough energy to put them away.

“Mike?” Goldie called quietly. “Can…? Can I take full control for a bit?”

Mike paused. “Full control?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Fucking… I have no clue how you’re so okay with this shit. I don’t like keeping secrets from you, totty. I just…”

“I hate talking about stuff that bothers me, too. I’m the last person to push you for details.” Mike sat on the bed. “Just don’t break anything.”

An amused huff. “Says you,” Goldie said.

Mike wasn’t surprised when Goldie reached and took the plush bunny from the bag. He settled himself on his back, wincing at his arm. The painkillers were wearing off.

“You doing okay? Your arm acted up for a second,” the bear asked as he settled the doll against their chest.

“Yeah. I should’ve grabbed a painkiller.”

Gentle warmth curled around his arm, pulsing softly throughout his body. “That a little better?” Goldie’s eye was greyed, the midnight iris milky.

Mike sighed, sagging into the bed. “A lot better.” He yawned. “Thank you.”

“No problem, totty.” A pause. “Did you have dolls as a little tot?”

Mike’s frown was so strong that it took control back. “My old dolls of the animatronics were torn up,” he murmured. “They’re back…there.”

A pause. “…I see.”

“It was my fault they got ruined,” Mike went on. He felt awful just thinking about it. “I brought them to school a lot. They helped me stay calm. Then…”

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault, totty.” Goldie’s voice was soft and gentle. “You didn’t do anything, ok? It’s not your fault a bunch of kids decided they wanted to be assholes.”

Mike couldn’t help but grip the plush.

“How come you haven’t said anything about it to them?” the bear asked.

The pale cheeks became pink. “I’m too old for dolls,” he mumbled.

Goldie frowned. “Mike, what exactly did I just ask you to get for me?”

“I mean… That’s not…”

“You’re never too old for dolls and stuff, ok? Don’t tell yourself that, you deserve to have things that make you happy. Did they make you happy?”

“…Yeah.” It was a quiet, strained answer.

“Do you want new dolls?”

“…Maybe.”

“Then we’ll get you new ones, okay? You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, totty, it’s okay.”

“I’m tired,” Mike murmured. He didn’t really want to talk about it anymore.

Goldie paused. “…I’ll let you rest up. You had a long day lugging me around.” He took full control of the arm. “All good?”

“I’m okay.” Mike felt the fuzziness begin to take over. He yawned. “Night, Goldie.”

A small chuckle. “Night, tater tot. Thanks for today.”

Mike shut his eyes. He felt his control detach, and then he was asleep.

The second Goldie felt Mike fall asleep, he tapped into their Lines. _“Hey, the kid’s asleep and doing just fine. He’s okay.”_

 _“Good.”_ He felt a sense of pride from Freddy’s end. _“Thank you both for looking after him, Goldie.”_

_“No problem. Hey, one thing before I clock out; do you guys have any dolls to spare? Like, the ones of you all?”_

A pause

 _“Yeah,”_ Bonnie said slowly. _“Why?”_

_“Well…”_

Hours later, when Mike woke up, his cheeks were wet and his lips tasted faintly of copper, and it felt like he had been crying for hours. The bunny plush was under his arm, soaked with tears. Goldie was sleeping, back in his head with his eyes shut. A box of tissues was sitting on the nightstand, the trash can full of bloodied paper.

Everyone in the house was asleep.

Mike snuck into Logan’s office to look for Scotty’s former address.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience, support, and art. I appreciate you all so much and I'm so sorry for getting so caught up and how sloppy this is. You guys are the best 😭💕

**Author's Note:**

> More to come. Stay turned C:


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